Chinese AI chatbots want to be your emotional support

This story first appeared in China Report, MIT Technology Review’s newsletter about technology developments in China. Sign up to receive it in your inbox every Tuesday.

Chinese ChatGPT-like bots are having a moment right now.

As I reported last week, Baidu became the first Chinese tech company to roll out its large language model—called Ernie Bot—to the general public, following a regulatory approval from the Chinese government. Previously, access required an application or was limited to corporate clients. You can read more about the news here.

I have to admit the Chinese public has reacted more passionately than I had expected. According to Baidu, the Ernie Bot mobile app reached 1 million users in the 19 hours following the announcement, and the model responded to more than 33.42 million user questions in 24 hours, averaging 23,000 questions per minute.

Since then, four more Chinese companies—the facial-recognition giant SenseTime and three young startups, Zhipu AI, Baichuan AI, and MiniMax—have also made their LLM chatbot products broadly available. But some more experienced players, like Alibaba and iFlytek, are still waiting for the clearance.

Like many others, I downloaded the Ernie Bot app last week to try it out. I was curious to find out how it’s different from its predecessors like ChatGPT. 

What I noticed first was that Ernie Bot does a lot more hand-holding. Unlike ChatGPT’s public app or website, which is essentially just a chat box, Baidu’s app has a lot more features that are designed to onboard and engage new users. 

Under Ernie Bot’s chat box, there’s an endless list of prompt suggestions—like “Come up with a name for a baby” and “Generating a work report.” There’s another tab called “Discovery” that displays over 190 pre-selected topics, including gamified challenges (“Convince the AI boss to raise my salary”) and customized chatting scenarios (“Compliment me”).

It seems to me that a major challenge for Chinese AI companies is that now, with government approval to open up to the public, they actually need to earn users and keep them interested. To many people, chatbots are a novelty right now. But that novelty will eventually wear off, and the apps need to make sure people have other reasons to stay.

One clever thing Baidu has done is to include a tab for user-generated content in the app. In the community forum, I can see the questions other users have asked the app, as well as the text and image responses they got. Some of them are on point and fun, while others are way off base, but I can see how this inspires users to try to input prompts themselves and work to improve the answers.

Left: a successful generation from the prompt “Pikachu wearing sunglasses and smoking cigars.” Right: the Ernie Bot failed to generate an image reflecting the literal or figurative meaning of 狗尾续貂, “To join a dog’s tail to a sable coat,” which is a Chinese idiom for a disappointing sequel to a fine work.

Another feature that caught my attention was Ernie Bot’s efforts to introduce role-playing.

One of the top categories on the “Discovery” page asks the chatbot to respond in the voice of pre-trained personas including Chinese historical figures like the ancient emperor Qin Shi Huang, living celebrities like Elon Musk, anime characters, and imaginary romantic partners. (I asked the Musk bot who it is; it answered: “I am Elon Musk, a passionate, focused, action-oriented, workaholic, dream-chaser, irritable, arrogant, harsh, stubborn, intelligent, emotionless, highly goal-oriented, highly stress-resistant, and quick-learner person.”

I have to say they do not seem to be very well trained; “Qin Shi Huang” and “Elon Musk” both broke character very quickly when I asked them to comment on serious matters like the state of AI development in China. They just gave me bland, Wikipedia-style answers.

But the most popular persona—already used by over 140,000 people, according to the app—is called “the considerate elder sister.” When I asked “her” what her persona is like, she answered that she’s gentle, mature, and good at listening to others. When I then asked who trained her persona, she responded that she was trained by “a group of professional psychology experts and artificial-intelligence developers” and “based on analysis of a large amount of language and emotional data.”

“I won’t answer a question in a robotic way like ordinary AIs, but I will give you more considerate support by genuinely caring about your life and emotional needs,” she also told me.

I’ve noticed that Chinese AI companies have a particular fondness for emotional-support AI. Xiaoice, one of the first Chinese AI assistants, made its name by allowing users to customize the perfect romantic partner. And another startup, Timedomain, left a trail of broken hearts this year when it shut down its AI boyfriend voice service. Baidu seems to be setting up Ernie Bot for the same kind of use. 

I’ll be watching this slice of the chatbot space grow with equal parts intrigue and anxiety. To me, it’s one of the most interesting possibilities for AI chatbots. But this is more challenging than writing code or answering math problems; it’s an entirely different task to ask them to provide emotional support, act like humans, and stay in character all the time. And if the companies do pull it off, there will be more risks to consider: What happens when humans actually build deep emotional connections with the AI?

Would you ever want emotional support from an AI chatbot? Tell me your thoughts at zeyi@technologyreview.com.

Catch up with China

1. The mysterious advanced chip in Huawei’s newly released smartphone has sparked many questions and much speculation about China’s progress in chip-making technology. (Washington Post $)

2. Meta took down the largest Chinese social media influence campaign to date, which included over 7,000 Facebook accounts that bashed the US and other adversaries of China. Like its predecessors, the campaign failed to attract attention. (New York Times $)

3. Lawmakers across the US are concerned about the idea of China buying American farmland for espionage, but actual land purchase data from 2022 shows that very few deals were made by Chinese entities. (NBC News)

4. A Chinese government official was sentenced to life in prison on charges of corruption, including fabricating a Bitcoin mining company’s electricity consumption data. (Cointelegraph)

5. Terry Gou, the billionaire founder of Foxconn, is running as an independent candidate in Taiwan’s 2024 presidential election. (Associated Press)

6. The average Chinese citizen’s life span is now 2.2 years longer thanks to the efforts in the past decade to clean up air pollution. (CNN)

7. Sinopec, the major Chinese oil company, predicts that gasoline demand in China will peak in 2023 because of the surging demand for electric vehicles. (Bloomberg $)

8. Chinese sextortion scammers are flooding Twitter comment sections and making the site almost unusable for Chinese speakers. (Rest of World)

Lost in translation

The favorite influencer of Chinese grandmas just got banned from social media. “Xiucai,” a 39-year-old man from Maozhou city, posted hundreds of videos on Douyin where he acts shy in China’s countryside, subtly flirts with the camera, and lip-synchs old songs. While the younger generations find these videos cringe-worthy, his look and style amassed him a large following among middle-aged and senior women. He attracted over 12 million followers in just over two years, over 70% of whom were female and nearly half older than 50. In May, a 72-year-old fan took a 1,000-mile solo train ride to Xiucai’s hometown just so she could meet him in real life.

But last week, his account was suddenly banned from Douyin, which said Xiucai had violated some platform rules. Local taxation authorities in Maozhou said he was reported for tax evasion, but the investigation hasn’t concluded yet, according to Chinese publication National Business Daily. His disappearance made more young social media users aware of his cultish popularity. As those in China’s silver generation learn to use social media and even become addicted to it, they have also become a lucrative target for content creators.

One more thing

Forget about bubble tea. The trendiest drink in China this week is a latte mixed with baijiu, the potent Chinese liquor. Named “sauce-flavored latte,” the eccentric invention is a collaboration between Luckin Coffee, China’s largest cafe chain, and Kweichow Moutai, China’s most famous liquor brand. News of its release lit up Chinese social media because it sounds like an absolute abomination, but the very absurdity of the idea makes people want to know what it actually tastes like. Dear readers in China, if you’ve tried it, can you let me know what it was like? I need to know, for research reasons.

The involuntary criminals behind pig-butchering scams

This story first appeared in China Report, MIT Technology Review’s newsletter about technology developments in China. Sign up to receive it in your inbox every Tuesday.

There’s something so visceral about the phrase “pig-butchering scam.” The first time I came across it was in my reporting a year ago, when I was looking into how strange LinkedIn connection requests turned out to be from crypto scammers. 

As I wrote then, fraudsters were creating “fake profiles on social media sites or dating sites, [to] connect with victims, build virtual and often romantic relationships, and eventually persuade the victims to transfer over their assets.” The name, which scammers themselves came up with, compares the lengthy, involved trust-building process to what it’s like to grow a pig for slaughter. It’s a tactic that has been used to steal millions of dollars from victims on LinkedIn and other platforms. You can read that story here

But there are also other, far more dire consequences to these scams. And over the past few weeks, I’ve noticed growing attention, in both the US and China, to the scammers behind these crimes, who are often victims of the scams themselves. A new book in English, a movie in Chinese, and a slew of media reports in both languages are now shining light on the fascinating (and horrifying) aspects of a scary trend in human trafficking.

For a sense of scale, just last week Binance, one of the largest crypto exchanges, released data showing a huge jump in the number of pig-butchering scams reported to the company: an increase of 100.5% from 2022 to 2023, even though there are still a few months left in this year. 

This kind of fraud is the subject of a new Chinese movie that unexpectedly became a box-office hit. No More Bets is centered on two Chinese people who are lured to Myanmar with the promise of high-paying jobs; once trapped abroad, they are forced to become scammers, though—spoiler alert—they eventually manage to escape. But many of their fellow victims are abused, raped, or even killed for trying to do the same.

While the plot is fictional, it was adapted from dozens of interviews the movie crew conducted with real victims, some of which are shown at the end of the film. (I’ll probably check out the movie when it premieres in the US on August 31.)

Many low-level scammers have in fact been coerced into conducting crimes. They leave their homes with the hope of getting stable employment, but once they find themselves in a foreign country—usually Myanmar, Cambodia, or the Philippines—they are held captive and unable to leave.

Since the movie came out on August 8, it has made nearly $470 million at the box office, placing it among the top 10 highest-grossing movies worldwide this year, even though it was only screened in China. It has also dominated social media discourse in China, inspiring over a dozen trending topics on Weibo and other platforms. 

At the same time, investigative reports from Chinese journalists have corroborated the credibility of the movie’s plot. In a podcast published earlier this month, one Chinese-Malaysian victim told Wang Zhian, an exiled Chinese investigative journalist, about his experience of being lied to by job recruiters and forced to become a scammer in the Philippines. There, 80% of his colleagues were from mainland China, with the rest from Taiwan and Malaysia. 

Many of them are from rural areas and have little education. But as another Chinese publication recently reported, scammer groups are increasingly looking to recruit highly educated people as they target more Chinese students overseas, or even English-speaking populations. 

Chinese people are no strangers to telecom fraud and online scams, but the recent wave of attention has made them aware of how globalized these scams have become. It has also tarnished the reputation of Southeast Asian countries, which are now struggling to attract Chinese tourists.  

These days, if you type “Myanmar” into Douyin, the Chinese version of TikTok, all autocompletes are related to the pig-butchering scams, like the “self-told story of someone who escaped from Myanmar.” There are still videos promoting Myanmar to tourists, but the comment sections are filled with viewers who insinuate that the Burmese video creators are working for the human-trafficking groups. Myanmar even recently tried to work with a Chinese province to promote tourism, and most social media responses were negative

Meanwhile, in the US, Number Go Up, a new book about cryptocurrencies by Bloomberg reporter Zeke Faux, is out next month. Faux traveled to Sihanoukville in southwestern Cambodia, where criminal gangs orchestrate pig-butchering scams. It was once a prosperous casino town for Chinese businesspeople (gambling is outlawed in China). But after the Cambodian government turned against gambling, and the pandemic made international travel difficult, the gambling gangs turned their casinos into online scam operation centers. 

Faux visited one giant compound called “Chinatown,” where scam victims are trapped and isolated from the outside world by metal gates. Neighbors told Faux of frequent suicides: “If an ambulance doesn’t go inside at least twice a week, it is a wonder.” One victim told him he had to hide a phone in his rectum to get in touch with someone outside and escape. 

But stories of successful escapes are rare. Even though the Chinese government announced in mid-August that it would work more with Southeast Asian countries to crack down on these criminal activities, it remains to be seen how successful those efforts will be. In the case of Cambodia, international law enforcement actions so far have been obstructed by alleged corruption on the ground, according to a recent investigation by the New York Times.

As I reported last year, there are many factors that make it hard to hold these scammers accountable: their use of crypto, the weak government control in the regions where they operate, and the criminals’ ever-changing tactics and platform choices. But the fact that both reporting and pop culture are starting to draw attention to where and how these criminal groups operate could be a good first step toward justice.

What solution do you think can help reduce the number of pig-butchering scams? Let me know your thoughts at zeyi@technologyreview.com

Catch up with China

1. Forbes got a copy of a draft proposal from 2022 that would address national security concerns related to TikTok. While it is unclear whether the draft is still being considered a year later, it shows that the US government wanted unprecedented control over the platform’s internal data and essential functions. (Forbes)

2. After Japan started releasing treated radioactive water into the ocean last week, the Chinese government protested by banning seafood imports from the country. (CNN)

  • Many Chinese people are also mad about the release and have resolved to harass Japanese businesses with phone calls. (Al Jazeera)

3. The US commerce secretary, Gina Raimondo, visited Beijing on Monday, making her the latest high-ranking Biden administration official to travel to the country. She agreed with her Chinese counterpart that they would launch an “information exchange” on export controls. (Associated Press)

4. A new type of battery developed by the Chinese company CATL can make fast charging for EVs even faster. (MIT Technology Review)

5. The Biden administration is hoping to secure a six-month extension of the Science and Technology Agreement with China, a 44-year-old document that fosters scientific collaboration. (NBC News)

6. Chinese ultra-fast-fashion company Shein will acquire a one-third stake of Forever 21’s operating company, Sparc Group. In return, Sparc will gain a minority stake in Shein. The Chinese company will start selling Forever 21 apparel online, while Forever 21 will take Shein products to its physical stores. (Wall Street Journal $)

7. DiDi, the troubled Chinese ride-hailing giant, is selling its electric-vehicle business to XPeng, a Chinese EV company. (Reuters $)

Lost in translation

Currently, there are over 2,700 online hospitals in China, where people can get diagnoses and prescriptions completely online. Because many of these platforms are able to come up with a prescription in less than two minutes, there’s widespread suspicion that they are risking patient health by relying on ChatGPT-like models. 

Last week, the industry was put on notice after Beijing’s Municipal Health Commission drafted a new regulation to ban AI-generated prescriptions. According to Sailing Health, a Chinese medical news publication, the city-wide regulation repeats and reinforces a March 2022 national policy that instituted the same kind of ban, but the new proposal comes at a time when people have started to see what large language models are capable of and when a few tech platforms have already started experimenting with medical AI. 

Following news of the new proposal, JD Health, one of the leading digital health-care platforms in China, told the publication that its AI features are currently used only to match patients with doctors and help doctors increase productivity. Medlinker, a Chinese internet startup that announced an AI product in May, responded that the product, called MedGPT, is still in internal testing and hasn’t been used in any external services. 

One more thing

NBA star James Harden was having a lot of fun during a recent trip to China. When Harden promoted his new wine brand on the Douyin livestream e-commerce channel of Chinese influencer Crazy Young Brother, he was shocked that the first batch of 10,000 bottles (sold in bundles of two for $60) sold out in only 14 seconds. After a second batch of 6,000 bottles also sold out in seconds, Harden was so excited that he did a cartwheel in the back of the room.

Chinese ChatGPT alternatives just got approved for the general public

On Wednesday, Baidu, one of China’s leading artificial-intelligence companies, announced it would open up access to its ChatGPT-like large language model, Ernie Bot, to the general public.

It’s been a long time coming. Launched in mid-March, Ernie Bot was the first Chinese ChatGPT rival. Since then, many Chinese tech companies, including Alibaba and ByteDance, have followed suit and released their own models. Yet all of them forced users to sit on waitlists or go through approval systems, making the products mostly inaccessible for ordinary users—a possible result, people suspected, of limits put in place by the Chinese state.

On August 30, Baidu posted on social media that it will also release a batch of new AI applications within the Ernie Bot as the company rolls out open registration the following day. 

Quoting an anonymous source, Bloomberg reported that regulatory approval will be given to “a handful of firms including fledgling players and major technology names.” Sina News, a Chinese publication, reported that eight Chinese generative AI chatbots have been included in the first batch of services approved for public release. 

ByteDance, which released the chatbot Doubao on August 18, and the Institute of Automation at the Chinese Academy of Sciences, which released Zidong Taichu 2.0 in June, are reportedly also included in the first batch. Other models from Alibaba, iFLYTEK, JD, and 360 are not.

When Ernie Bot was released on March 16, the response was a mix of excitement and disappointment. Many people deemed its performance mediocre relative to the previously released ChatGPT. 

But most people simply weren’t able to see it for themselves. The launch event didn’t feature a live demonstration, and later, to actually try out the bot, Chinese users need to have a Baidu account and apply for a use license that could take as long as three months to come through. Because of this, some people who got access early were selling secondhand Baidu accounts on e-commerce sites, charging anywhere from a few bucks to over $100. 

More than a dozen Chinese generative AI chatbots were released after Ernie Bot. They are all pretty similar to their Western counterparts in that they are capable of conversing in text—answering questions, solving math problems (somewhat), writing programming code, and composing poems. Some of them also allow input and output in other forms, like audio, images, data visualization, or radio signals.

Like Ernie Bot, these services came with restrictions for user access, making it difficult for the general public in China to experience them. Some were allowed only for business uses.

One of the main reasons Chinese tech companies limited access to the general public was concern that the models could be used to generate politically sensitive information. While the Chinese government has shown it’s extremely capable of censoring social media content, new technologies like generative AI could push the censorship machine to unknown and unpredictable levels. Most current chatbots like those from Baidu and ByteDance have built-in moderation mechanisms that would refuse to answer sensitive questions about Taiwan or Chinese president Xi Jinping, but a general release to China’s 1.4 billion people would almost certainly allow users to find more clever ways to circumvent censors.

When China released its first regulation specifically targeting generative AI services in July, it included a line requesting that companies obtain “relevant administrative licenses,” though at the time the law didn’t specify what licenses it meant. 

As Bloomberg first reported, the approval Baidu obtained this week was issued by the Chinese Cyberspace Administration, the country’s main internet regulator, and it will allow companies to roll out their ChatGPT-style services to the whole country. But the agency has not officially announced which companies obtained the public access license or which ones have applied for it.

Even with the new access, it’s unclear how many people will use the products. The initial lack of access to Chinese chatbot alternatives decreased public interest in them. While ChatGPT has not been officially released in China, many Chinese people are able to access the OpenAI chatbot by using VPN software.

“Making Ernie Bot available to hundreds of millions of Internet users, Baidu will collect massive valuable real-world human feedback. This will not only help improve Baidu’s foundation model but also iterate Ernie Bot on a much faster pace, ultimately leading to a superior user experience,” said Robin Li, Baidu’s CEO, according to a press release from the company.

Baidu declined to give further comment. ByteDance did not immediately respond to a request for comment from MIT Technology Review.

The fascinating evolution of typing Chinese characters

This story first appeared in China Report, MIT Technology Review’s newsletter about technology developments in China. Sign up to receive it in your inbox every Tuesday.

The idea of downloading a third-party keyboard to your phone may seem unnecessary to most people, but in China it’s the norm. 

Chinese is the only modern language that’s logographic, meaning that the way a character is written can be completely separate from its pronunciation (Japanese, Korean, and Vietnamese have their variations of the Chinese characters). Because of that, relying on a default keyboard would be incredibly difficult. So today, 800 million people in China use smart keyboard software that predicts what a user wants to type.

But a strong reliance on this technology also presents a security risk: most keyboard apps transmit keystrokes to the cloud to enable better text prediction, creating an opportunity for the content to be intercepted if the apps don’t have strong enough encryption protocols.

This week, I reported on one such encryption loophole found in Sogou, one of China’s most popular third-party keyboard apps. A group of researchers at the Citizen Lab, a University of Toronto–affiliated research group, managed to intercept almost everything they typed into Sogou by deploying a two-decade-old exploit. 

Not only can this kind of software endanger people’s personal and financial information, but—perhaps more important—it can compromise otherwise encrypted messages in apps like Signal, and allow them to be caught by police or malicious actors.

For more information on this particular loophole and the broader implications, you can read the story here.

But for the newsletter, I want to take you all on a geeky journey into the history of keyboard apps—or input method editors (IMEs), as they are formally called. IMEs are so ubiquitous and fundamental today that it’s easy to forget how much hard work was put into their creation. And they’re a fascinating example of how innovations can bridge the gap between the digital world and the real world.

In the ’80s, there was no way of processing Chinese characters with the personal computers on the market. Even after the laborious process of digitizing Chinese characters to be displayed on computer screens, a big question remained: How do you type those characters? Particularly, how do you match the tens of thousands of Chinese characters to the 26 letters on a QWERTY keyboard?

The first attempt was vastly different from the keyboard apps today, and centered on how Chinese characters are written.

In August 1983, exactly 40 years ago, a Chinese engineer named Wang Yongmin developed the first popular way to input Chinese characters into a computer: Wubi. He did it by breaking down a Chinese character into different strokes and assigning several strokes to each letter on the QWERTY keyboard.

A diagram of how Wubi uses the QWERTY keyboard.
The diagram above shows how each key is matched with three to 12 character components. The texts at bottom are poems to help users remember the combinations.

For example, the Chinese character for dog, 犬, has several shapes in it: 犬, 一, 丿, and丶.These shapes were matched with the keys D, G, T, and Y, respectively. So when a user typed “DGTY,” a Wubi input software would match that to the character 犬.

On the left are the Chinese character 犬 and its phonetic spelling; on the right is a guide on how to type the character in Wubi.
A guide on how the character 犬 should be typed into Wubi software.

Wubi was able to match every Chinese character with a keystroke combination using at maximum four QWERTY keys. It’s considered one of the fastest ways to type Chinese, but the downside is also pretty obvious: users need to memorize which keys correspond to which strokes, so the learning curve is quite steep. (One way people have remembered the keyboard designations? Jingles!)

The next step in the evolution of Chinese IMEs was the invention of typing by phonetic spelling.

It may be hard to believe, but pinyin, the modern way of spelling each Chinese word in a standardized Latin alphabet, was only created in the 1950s. In the ’80s and ’90s, China started to experiment with teaching kids pinyin in school before teaching them how to write Chinese characters. One result was that pinyin became an easier and more widely accepted way to match Chinese characters to the Latin letters on a keyboard.

To stick with the example of the character 犬 (dog), its pronunciation was standardized as quǎn, so typing Q, U, A, N on the standard keyboard would get you this character on your screen. 

A large number of pinyin-based IMEs were invented in the ’90s. The most prominent was Zhineng ABC, developed in 1993 by Zhu Shoutao, a computer science professor at Peking University. After Microsoft integrated Zhineng ABC as one of the default IMEs in Windows PCs, it became the most widely used one in the country.

But typing by pinyin also has its problems: dozens or hundreds of Chinese characters can share the same phonetic spelling. If you type QUAN, the computer has no way to tell which of 81 characters is the one you want.

A list of all Chinese characters with the spelling quan.
There are at least 81 Chinese charactershat are spelled quan.
LELEKETANG

So every time you typed a word in Zhineng ABC, you still needed to select the correct character from a long list of potential candidates.

How Zhineng ABC displayed words for users to choose from.

Luckily, they were always displayed in the same order, meaning you’d start to remember where characters you frequently used appeared in the little window. 

I can confirm this, as I learned to type with Zhineng ABC. The last character in my name is 毅, spelled yi; and yi happens to be the sound with the most possible matches in Chinese, with hundreds of characters spelled the same way (thanks, Mom and Dad). It was etched in my mind that when I wanted to type 毅 in Zhineng ABC, I needed to scroll to the fourth page and choose the sixth option.

Obviously, that’s not efficient. In fact, it’s actually slower to type in Zhineng ABC than in Wubi. But the next generation of keyboard apps quickly surpassed its predecessors.

In 2006, Sogou was released, essentially combining the foundation of pinyin typing and the tech of a search engine. Just as search engines recommend content that’s closest to what people are asking about, keyboard software can predict what users may want to type. 

With Sogou, the candidate characters and words are no longer displayed in a permanent order; the order changes based on a user’s typing history and what’s in the news. For example, now that I’ve typed 毅 a few times in this newsletter already, Sogou remembers that and puts it at the top whenever I type yi.

Many other innovative IMEs were invented around the same time as Sogou. Some tried to combine the methods based on shapes with those based on spelling. Others enabled users to write a Chinese character directly on the device, since trackpads and touch screens were coming into use.

But over time, these methods were slowly given up in favor of the much more efficient typing in smart keyboard apps like Sogou, which became the foundation of how Chinese people interact with technologies and each other. 

They became a necessity for people’s everyday lives—but this unfortunately opened everyone to a greater security risk. Even if more people knew about these vulnerabilities, it’s hard to imagine Chinese users would ever ditch the apps; instead, maybe it’s time users start demanding better security practices and more transparency from these companies. 

(There are many more fascinating aspects to the historical relationship between the Chinese language and technology. For example, people in Taiwan and Hong Kong have developed their own ways of typing Chinese characters. For a great introduction, I’d recommend the book Kingdom of Characters by Jing Tsu, a professor of East Asian languages and literature at Yale.)

What else do you want to know about Chinese keyboard apps? Ask me any questions at zeyi@technologyreview.com.

Catch up with China

1. A landmark agreement between the US and China to cooperate on science and technology is set to expire on August 27 after being in effect for 44 years. Its end would deal a heavy blow to the future of scientific research. (Wall Street Journal $)

2. Xiong’an, the Chinese city near Beijing that’s being built as a flagship smart city, is experiencing particularly devastating rain this summer, leaving some people to wonder if the choice of location was a mistake. (CNN

  • Just how bad was the rain in and around Beijing? One county recorded 1.6 years’ worth of rain in just three days. (Reuters $)

3. Huawei will provide surveillance systems for the Taliban to install across Afghanistan. (Kabul Now)

4. To balance the increasing demand for burial space and the declining supply of land, Beijing is turning its cemeteries vertical and digital. (Bloomberg $)

5. A Chinese artist is re-creating the old houses demolished in the country’s modernization process, one miniature at a time. (New York Times $)

6. One Chinese AI-powered chatbot allowed users to create an ideal partner to talk to every day. When the app went out of business, the users were heartbroken. (Rest of World)

7. Dozens of Chinese companies are developing their own version of “miracle” weight-loss drugs like Wegovy that are popular in the West. (Financial Times $)

8. American intelligence agencies issued a warning that their Chinese and Russian counterparts are now targeting space companies and their employees. (New York Times $)

Lost in translation

During the height of the pandemic, almost every Chinese province was building 方舱 (fangcang), makeshift hospitals where covid patients were quarantined. So what happened to them? Reporters at the Chinese publication Southern Weekly combed through hundreds of government procurement reports across the country and found that local governments are spending millions of dollars to dismantle or repurpose them—or, in some cases, to build more of them.

At least four makeshift hospitals are being shut down and the land returned to its original use, and the construction of five new ones has been halted. Equipment and construction materials from those hospitals are now being resold online at low prices. Meanwhile, 24 existing hospitals are being transformed into permanent medical or disease prevention centers. But there are 10 new hospitals still being built, with a total budget of $17 million. One possible explanation is that the local governments’ annual budgets were already set at the beginning of this year to cover the construction of fangcang.

One more thing

How smart can and should a public restroom be? At Shanghai’s Hongqiao railway station, a big screen displays real-time information about which stalls and urinals are occupied and which are not. I understand the idea is to guide a passenger to an empty spot faster, but hear me out—maybe not everything needs to be “smartified.” 

A big blue screen at the Shanghai Hongqiao railway station displaying which restroom stalls and  urinals are available currently.
How ubiquitous keyboard software puts hundreds of millions of Chinese users at risk

For millions of Chinese people, the first software they download on a new laptop or smartphone is always the same: a keyboard app. Yet few of them are aware that it may make everything they type vulnerable to spying eyes.

Since dozens of Chinese characters can share the same latinized phonetic spelling, the ordinary QWERTY keyboard alone is incredibly inefficient. A smart, localized keyboard app can save a lot of time and frustration by predicting the characters and words a user wants to type. Today, over 800 million Chinese people use third-party keyboard apps on their PCs, laptops, and mobile phones. 

But a recent report by the Citizen Lab, a University of Toronto–affiliated research group focused on technology and security, revealed that Sogou, one of the most popular Chinese keyboard apps, had a massive security loophole.

“This is an app that handles very sensitive information—specifically, every single thing that you type,” says Jeffrey Knockel, a senior research associate at the Citizen Lab and coauthor of the report. “So we wanted to look into that in greater detail and see if this app is properly encrypting this very sensitive data that it’s sending over the network—or, as we found, is it improperly doing it in a way that eavesdroppers could decipher?” 

Indeed, what he and his colleagues found was that Sogou’s encryption system could be exploited to intercept and decrypt exactly what people were typing, as they were typing it. 

Sogou, which was acquired by the tech giant Tencent in 2021, quickly fixed this loophole after the Citizen Lab researchers disclosed it to the company. 

“User privacy is fundamental to our business,” a Sogou spokesperson told MIT Technology Review. “We have addressed the issues identified by the Citizen Lab and will continue to work so that user data remains safe and secure. We transparently disclose our data processing activities in our privacy policy and do not otherwise share user data.”

But there’s no guarantee that this was the only vulnerability in the app, and the researchers did not examine other popular keyboard apps in the Chinese market—meaning the ubiquitous software will continue to be a security risk for hundreds of millions of people. And, alarmingly, the potential for such makes otherwise encrypted communications by Chinese users—in apps like Signal, for example—vulnerable to systems of state surveillance.

An indispensable part of Chinese devices

Officially called input method editors (IMEs), keyboard apps are necessary for typing in languages that have more characters than a common Latin-alphabet keyboard allows, like those with Japanese, Korean, or Indic characters.

For Chinese users, having an IME is almost a necessity. 

“There’s a lot more ambiguity to resolve when typing Chinese characters using a Latin alphabet,” says Mona Wang, an Open Technology Fund fellow at the Citizen Lab and another coauthor of the report. Because the same phonetic spelling can be matched to dozens or even hundreds of Chinese characters, and these characters also can be paired in different ways to become different words, a keyboard app that has been fine-tuned to the Chinese language can perform much better than the default keyboard.

Starting in the PC era, Chinese software developers proposed all kinds of IME products to expedite typing, some even ditching phonetic spelling and allowing users to draw or choose the components of a Chinese character. As a result, downloading third-party keyboard software became standard practice for everyone in China.

Released in 2006, Sogou Input Method quickly became the most popular keyboard app in the country. It was more capable than any competitor in predicting which character or word the user actually wanted to type, and it did that by scraping text from the internet and maintaining an extensive library of Chinese words. The cloud-based library was updated frequently to include newly coined words, trending expressions, or names of people in the news. In 2007, when Google launched its Chinese keyboard, it even copied Sogou’s word library (and later had to apologize).

In 2014, when the iPhone finally enabled third-party IMEs for the first time, Chinese users rushed to download Sogou’s keyboard app, leaving 3,000 reviews in just one day. At one point, over 90% of Chinese PC users were using Sogou.

Over the years, its market dominance has waned; as of last year, Baidu Input Method was the top keyboard app in China, with 607 million users and 46.4% of the market share. But Sogou still had 561 million users, according to iiMedia, an analytics firm

Exposing the loophole

A keyboard app can access a wide variety of user information. For example, once Sogou is downloaded and added to the iPhone keyboard options, the app will ask for “full access.” If it’s granted, anything the user types can be sent to Sogou’s cloud-based server. 

Connecting to the cloud is what makes most IMEs successful, allowing them to improve text prediction and enable other miscellaneous features, like the ability to search for GIFs and memes. But this also adds risk since content can, at least in theory, be intercepted during transmission. 

It becomes the apps’ responsibility to properly encrypt the data and prevent that from happening. Sogou’s privacy policy says it has “adopted industry-standard security technology measures … to maximize the prevention of leak, destruction, misuse, unauthorized access, unauthorized disclosure, or alteration” of users’ personal information.

“People generally had suspicions [about the security of keyboard apps] because they’re advertising [their] cloud service,” says Wang. “Almost certainly they’re sending some amount of keystrokes over the internet.” 

Nevertheless, users have continued to grant the apps full access. 

When the Citizen Lab researchers started looking at the Sogou Input Method on Windows, Android, and iOS platforms, they found that it used EncryptWall, an encryption system it developed itself, instead of Transport Layer Security (TLS), the standard international cryptographic protocol that has been in use since 1999. (Sogou is also used on other platforms like MacOS and Linux, but the researchers haven’t looked into them.)

One critical difference between the two encryption systems, the Citizen Lab found, is that Sogou’s EncryptWall is still vulnerable to an exploit that was revealed in 2002 and can turn encrypted data back into plain text. TLS was updated to protect against this in 2003. But when they used that exploit method on Sogou, the researchers managed to decrypt the exact keystrokes they’d typed. 

Example of recovered data; line 19 contains the user-typed text and line 2 contains the package name of the app in which the text is being typed.
THE CITIZEN LAB

The existence of this loophole meant that users were vulnerable to all kinds of hacks. The typed content could be intercepted when it went through VPN software, home Wi-Fi routers, and telecom providers. 

Not every word is transmitted to the cloud, the researchers found. “If you type in nihao [‘hello’ in Chinese] or something like that, [the app] can answer that without having to use the cloud database,” says Knockel. “But if it’s more complicated and, frankly, more interesting things that you’re typing in, it has to reach out to that cloud database.” 

Along with the content being typed, Knockel and his Citizen Lab colleagues also obtained other information like technical identifiers of the user’s device, the app that the typing occurred in, and even a list of apps installed on the device.

A lot of malicious actors would be interested in exploiting a loophole like this and eavesdropping on keystrokes, the researchers note—from cybercriminals after private information (like street addresses and bank account numbers) to government hackers. 

(In a written response to the Citizen Lab, Sogou said the transmission of typed text is required to access more accurate and extensive vocabularies on the cloud and enable a built-in search engine, and the uses are stated in the privacy agreement.)

This particular loophole was closed when Tencent updated the Sogou software across platforms in late July. The Citizen Lab researchers found that the latest version effectively fixed the problem by adopting the TLS encryption protocol. 

How secure messaging becomes insecure

Around the world, people who are at high risk of being surveilled by state authorities have turned to apps that offer end-to-end encryption. But if keyboard apps are vulnerable, then otherwise encrypted communication apps like Signal or WhatsApp are now also unsafe. What’s more, once a keyboard app is compromised, even an otherwise offline app, like the built-in notebook app, can be a security risk too. 

(Signal and WhatsApp did not respond to MIT Technology Review’s requests for comment. A spokesperson from Baidu said, “Baidu Input Method consistently adheres to established security practice standards. As of now, there are no vulnerabilities related to [the encryption exploit Sogou was vulnerable to] within Baidu Input Method’s products.”)

As early as 2019, Naomi Wu, a Shenzhen-based tech blogger known as SexyCyborg online, had sounded the alarm about the risk of using Chinese keyboard apps alongside Signal.

“The Signal ‘fix’ is ‘Incognito Mode’ aka for the app to say ‘Pretty please don’t read everything I type’ to the virtual keyboard and count on Google/random app makers to listen to the flag, and not be under court order to do otherwise,” she wrote in a 2019 Twitter thread. Since keyboard apps have no obligation to honor Signal’s request, “basically all hardware here is self-compromised 5 minutes out of the box,” she added. 

Wu suspects that the use of Signal was the reason some Chinese student activists talking to foreign media were detained by the police in 2018

In January 2021, Signal itself tried to clarify that its Incognito Keyboard feature (which only works for users on Android systems, which are more vulnerable than iOS) was not a foolproof privacy solution: “Keyboards and IME’s can ignore Android’s Incognito Keyboard flag. This Android system flag is a best effort, not a guarantee. It’s important to use a keyboard or IME that you trust. Signal cannot detect or prevent malware on your device,” the company added to its article on keyboard security.

The recent Citizen Lab findings lend further support to Wu’s theory. 

The security risk is particularly acute for users in China, since they are more likely to use keyboard apps and are under strict surveillance by their government. (Wu herself has disappeared from social media since the end of June, following a visit from police that was reportedly related to her online discussions of Signal and keyboard apps.) 

Still, other governments seem to have been paying attention to vulnerabilities with encrypted data transmission as well. A 2012 document leaked by Edward Snowden, for instance, shows that the Five Eyes intelligence alliance—comprising Canada, the US, Britain, Australia, and New Zealand—had been discreetly exploiting a similar loophole in UC Browser, a popular Chinese program, to intercept certain transmissions. 

Beyond being targeted by state actors, there are other ways keystroke information acquired via keyboard apps can be sold, leaked, or hacked. In 2021, it was reported that advertisers were able to access personal information through Sogou, as well as Baidu’s keyboard and similar apps, and use it to push customized ads. And in 2013, a loophole was found that made multimedia files that users uploaded and shared through Sogou searchable on Bing. 

These security problems are not unique to Chinese apps. In 2016, users of SwiftKey, an IME that was acquired by Microsoft that year, found that the app was auto-filling other people’s email addresses and personal information, as a result of a bug with its cloud sync system. The following year, a virtual keyboard app accidentally leaked 31 million users’ personal data.

Even though the specific loophole identified by the Citizen Lab was fixed quickly, given all these breaches, it feels somewhat inevitable that another security flaw in a keyboard app will be revealed soon. 

As Knockel notes, using Sogou and similar apps always poses security risks, particularly in China, since all Chinese apps are legally required to surrender data if asked by the government. 

“If that’s something that’s concerning to you,” he says, “you might also just reconsider using Sogou, period.”

China’s car companies are turning into tech companies

This story first appeared in China Report, MIT Technology Review’s newsletter about technology developments in China. Sign up to receive it in your inbox every Tuesday.

This year, car buyers in China are constantly bombarded with claims about how advanced Navigation on Autopilot (NOA) systems are coming to their city. These software systems are not quite fully autonomous driving—your hands are still supposed to be holding the wheel—but they let cars stop, steer, and accelerate in the city by themselves.

Both EV makers and AI startups have published aggressive roadmaps for national rollouts of their city NOA services, claiming their customers in dozens or hundreds of Chinese cities will soon be able to experience being driven by their cars through narrow city streets. 

This morning, I published a story that took a closer look at how city NOAs have become the industry darling in 2023, including how they actually perform and the difficulty in educating drivers on using the system responsibly. You can read all of it here.

But during my interview with Zhang Xiang, a Chinese auto industry analyst and visiting professor at Huanghe Science and Technology College, one comment stuck out to me. “The auto industry is very competitive now. Consumers are expecting those vehicles to be tech products, like smartphones. It’d be hard for auto brands to sell their cars if they didn’t advertise their products this way,” he said.

Zhang’s observation is consistent with what I saw this year, particularly when I went to the massive auto show this April in Shanghai. Not only was everyone boasting about their brand’s autonomous driving capabilities, but companies were also showcasing all kinds of other advanced software features.

For example, SenseTime, an AI company, uses facial recognition tech to monitor driver fatigue and also to identify children left in the car; SAIC Volkswagen is using augmented reality to display map information on the windshield; Baidu is incorporating its generative AI model in the in-car audio chatbot for route planning.

NIO, one of the frontrunner companies in China’s homegrown EV industry, has embraced the subscription model. By paying 380 RMB ($52) a month, NIO owners can get the basic version of an NOA system in their cars, which works on highways and major urban roads. In the future, they will be able to pay double the amount for a more advanced version. Meanwhile, as batteries make up the majority of the costs and upkeep of an EV model, NIO also launched a monthly battery-swap service in China and a monthly battery-rental subscription in Europe.

All of these examples show that we are increasingly seeing auto companies turn into tech companies. Beyond horsepower and exterior/interior design, companies are now also competing on who can adapt the latest technology into a consumer-facing product. Globally, this trend is spearheaded by Tesla, with traditional auto brands slowly playing catch-up. But that transition is happening even faster in China.

Tu Le, managing director of Sino Auto Insights, a business consulting firm that specializes in transportation, breaks down the ongoing auto industry evolution into four phases: electrification, smartification, servicification, and autonomization. (While the first two are easy to understand, the third phase means the auto companies’ business models revolve around selling services, and the fourth phase means the proliferation of robotaxis.)

As I wrote earlier this year, China has managed to achieve a significant lead with the development and adoption of EVs, through a mix of different factors like government subsidies and battery tech innovations. That enables the Chinese auto industry to hop on the next phase earlier than everyone else. “The United States and Europe are in phase one, electrification; China is in phase two, smartification,” Tu says. 

The third phase is not far away, he believes. “Once more and more EVs on Chinese roads have ADAS [advanced driver-assistance systems]—the free systems and the premium systems—then we will get to servicification. Then they will start adding more features and trying to charge you,” he says. 

Chinese car companies aren’t just becoming tech companies, Chinese tech companies are also turning into car companies. Autonomous driving tech is one of Baidu’s main focuses now that it has transitioned from a search engine to an AI company. Xiaomi, one of China’s smartphone giants, has spent nearly a billion dollars on becoming an EV company. Even Huawei, forced by US sanctions to reinvent itself, is now targeting smart cars as its next strategic focus.

With these tech juggernauts joining the race, Chinese car companies are being forced to up their tech game to have a chance of competing.

At the end of the day, is that a good thing? I’m not sure. The heated competition is pushing Chinese auto companies to offer more advanced tech products at more affordable prices, and consumers stand to benefit from that. At the same time, it also brings in the difficult problems that the tech industry has failed to address: data security, privacy invasion, AI biases and failures, and potentially more.

But it does seem like this is an inevitable trend. In that sense, whatever’s happening in China now will be a valuable lesson for the industry in other countries.

What do you think of the trend of automakers turning into tech companies? Let me know your thoughts at zeyi@technologyreview.com.

Catch up with China

1. With domestic adoption of the digital yuan stalled, Beijing is increasingly pushing for its use in international trade settlement. (MIT Technology Review)

2. The Biden administration released new rules that ban US private equity and venture capital investment in Chinese AI, quantum computing, and semiconductor companies. (CNN)

  • Afterward, Beijing issued a document of 24 guidelines on how to attract more foreign investment, including strengthening the enforcement of intellectual property rights. (Reuters $)
  • Foreign investment in China is already at its lowest point in decades. (Bloomberg $)

3. The best place to buy a Tesla is in China, where they are 50% cheaper than in Europe and the US, after several rounds of price cuts. (Financial Times $)

4. International students are more likely to be accused of cheating by AI writing detection tools, new Stanford research finds. (The Markup)

5. China’s internet regulator was busy last Tuesday: it released one regulation restricting the use of facial recognition tech to protect privacy (Wall Street Journal $) and another that mandates all mobile apps available in the country must register their business details with the government (Reuters $).

6. The Village Basketball Association, a national league for amateur players from the countryside, has become the latest sports sensation in China. (Wall Street Journal $)

7. Taiwanese chip giant TSMC is investing $3.8 billion to build a new factory in Germany. (New York Times $)

8. After Taiwan’s justice department announced that being filmed smoking marijuana abroad is a prosecutable offense, an activist filed a lawsuit against Elon Musk to show the rule’s overreach. (Radio Taiwan International)

Lost in translation

An anti-corruption campaign is shaking up China’s healthcare and pharmaceutical industry. According to the Chinese publication Lanjing Caijing, China’s top anti-corruption regulator has in recent months been publicizing cases of bribery in the healthcare field. Most hospitals are publicly owned in China, and the investigations focus on pharmaceutical companies allegedly bribing hospital executives to secure procurement contracts through sponsoring their research, hosting academic conferences, and paying kickbacks. 

While these practices are not new, the campaign this year seems to be particularly serious. At least 160 top hospital executives in China have been placed under investigation so far—that’s already twice as many as in all of 2022. Because these bribes would often be recorded as marketing expenses in the companies’ accounting books, companies with sky-high marketing spending are under particularly strict scrutiny right now. In 2022, nearly 40 of the top 66 pharmaceutical companies in China spent half of their annual revenues on marketing, according to their financial disclosures.

One more thing

Don’t you just long for some VR-powered propaganda education when you are exercising on a stationary bike? A Chinese company recently posted a video of its “Red VR Rides” educational device, which allows the user to read about the Chinese Communist Party’s history while pedaling. In fact, there are quite a few Chinese VR companies that have released similar products in the past. This niche industry is apparently thriving.

Three people riding on different VR stationary bikes designed for Chinese Community Party history education.
The race to lead China’s autonomous driving market

Toward the end of a nearly 15-minute video, William Sundin, creator of the ChinaDriven channel on YouTube, gets off the highway and starts driving in the southern Chinese city of Guangzhou. Or rather, he allows himself to be driven. For while he’s still in the driver’s seat, the car is now steering, stopping, and changing speed—successfully navigating the busy city streets all by itself. 

“It’s a NOA, [Navigation on Autopilot] function but for the urban environment,” he explains to the people watching him test-drive the XPeng G6, a Chinese electric vehicle model. “Obviously this is much more difficult than simple highway NOA, with lots of different junctions and traffic lights and mopeds and pedestrians and cars chopping and cutting lanes—there’s a lot more for the system to have to deal with.”

His final assessment? The Navigation on Autopilot isn’t perfect, but it’s pretty “impressive” and a preview of more advancements to come. 

Beyond a simple product review, Sundin’s video is giving his followers a close-up view into the production race that has sped up among Chinese car companies over the past year. And whether they are electric vehicle makers or self-driving tech startups, they all seem fixated on one goal in particular: launching their own autonomous navigation services in more and more Chinese cities as quickly as possible.

In just the past six months, nearly a dozen Chinese car companies have announced ambitious plans to roll out their NOA products to multiple cities across the country. While some of the services remain inaccessible to the public now, Sundin tells MIT Technology Review “the watershed could be next year.” 

Similar to the Full Self-Driving (FSD) features that Tesla is beta testing in North America, NOA systems are an increasingly capable version of driver-assistance systems that can autonomously stop, steer, and change lanes in complicated urban traffic. This is different from fully autonomous driving, since human drivers are still required to hold the steering wheel and be ready to take over. Car companies now offer NOA as a premium software upgrade to owners willing to pay for the experience, and who can afford the premium models that have the necessary sensors.

A year ago, the NOA systems in China were still limited to highways and couldn’t function in urban settings, even though most Chinese people live in densely populated urban areas. As Sundin notes, it’s incredibly challenging for NOA systems to work well in such environments, given the lack of separation between foot traffic and vehicles, as well as each city’s distinctive layout. A system that has learned the tricks of driving in Beijing, for instance, may not perform well in Shanghai. 

As a result, Chinese companies are racing to produce more and more city-unique navigation systems before gradually expanding into the rest of the country. Leading companies including XPeng, Li Auto, and Huawei have announced aggressive plans to roll out these NOA services to dozens or even hundreds more cities in the near future—in turn pushing one another to move faster and faster. Some have even decided to release NOA without extra costs for the owner.

“They are launching it quickly in order to create awareness, to try to build credibility and trust among the Chinese consumers, but also, it’s FOMO [fear of missing out],” says Tu Le, managing director of Sino Auto Insights, a business consulting firm that specializes in transportation. Once a few companies have announced their city navigation features, Tu adds, “everyone else needs to follow suit, or their products are at a disadvantage in the Chinese market.”

At the same time, this fierce competition is also having unintended side effects—confusing some customers and arguably putting other drivers at risk. And underneath the automakers’ ubiquitous marketing campaigns, many of these features simply remain hard to access for those who don’t live in the pilot cities or own the high-end models.  

Don’t think of it as full self-driving—at least not yet 

The autonomous driving industry divides its technological advancements into six levels: from Level 0, where humans control the entire driving process, to Level 5, where no human intervention is needed at all. 

There are really only two levels in use today. One is the tech in robotaxis, led by companies like Cruise, Waymo, and the Chinese giant Baidu, which offer Level 4 technology to passengers but are often limited in certain geographical boundaries. 

The other level is the NOA system, exemplified by Tesla’s FSD or XPeng’s XNGP. They are only Level 2, meaning human drivers still need to monitor most tasks, but the technology is much more accessible and is now available in auto vehicles sold around the world.

It’s easy to believe that commercially available vehicles are closer to fully autonomous than they actually are, because Chinese car companies have given their NOA products all kinds of misleading or meaningless names:

  • Li Auto follows Tesla’s tradition and calls it NOA
  • NIO calls it NOP (Navigate on Pilot) and NAD (NIO Assisted and Intelligent Driving)
  • XPeng calls it NGP (Navigation Guided Pilot) and more recently XNGP (the “last step before full autonomous driving is realized,” the company says)
  • Huawei calls it NCA (Navigation Cruise Assist)
  • Haomo.AI, an AI startup, calls it NOH (Navigation on HPilot)
  • Baidu calls it Apollo City Driving Max

Confused yet? 

Apart from just being hard to remember, the different names also mean a lack of consistent standards. There’s no guarantee that these companies are promising the same things with their similar-sounding products. Some might only cover the major beltways in a city, while others go into smaller streets; some use LiDAR (a laser-based sensor) to help improve accuracy, while others only use cameras. And there’s no standard on how safe the tech needs to be before it is sold to consumers.

“Many such concepts are invented by Chinese companies themselves with no reference or background,” says Zhang Xiang, an auto industry analyst and visiting professor at Huanghe Science and Technology College. “What are the standards for achieving NOA? How many qualifications are there? No one can explain.” 

More cities! 

Last September, two Chinese companies were racing to be the first to launch a city NOA system in China: On September 17, XPeng, the EV company that has long centered its brand image around the use of AI, managed to win the race by making its product available in Guangzhou. A week later, Huawei—a tech giant that has made smart driving a focus in recent years—launched it in Shenzhen.

But the progress really hit the accelerator in 2023. In January, Haomo.AI, a four-year-old Chinese autonomous driving startup, announced that it would make its city NOA service available in 100 Chinese cities by the end of 2024. Then on April 15, Huawei raised its goal to 45 cities by the end of 2023; three days after that, Li Auto, another Chinese EV company, pushed it further to 100 cities by the end of 2023. XPeng, NIO, and more companies followed soon after with similar announcements ranging in plans to expand to up to 200 cities.

For homegrown EV companies to remain competitive in the market, they are developing Level 2 navigation technology in-house and selling city NOA services as an upgrade to their vehicles; like other advanced features, they often require additional payments every month or year. 

At the same time, AI companies are also competing against more conventional automakers, and as they work toward Level 4 or 5 self-driving technology, they still need interim revenue. NOA services can mean quick cash, easy sales, and, crucially, access to more data to train AI models.  

“If you are just an autonomous vehicle company, significant revenue is 10 years out,” says Tu. “If you are under pressure from investors to generate revenues today, what do you do? You create incremental revenue through selling your hardware and software stack, or licensing it.” 

Tu’s analysis is in line with what Cai Na, Haomo.AI’s vice president, told MIT Technology Review: “We think going the [Level 2] route is more realistic. The L2 technology has already made the breakthrough from being a technology to being a product, and many companies have turned it from just a product to a commercially viable product.” 

The complexity on the ground

Behind all the big promises is the reality that today, these urban navigation services are not available to much of the public. 

In 2023, about 360,000 cars produced in China will be equipped with city NOA capabilities, according to market research by Western Securities, a Chinese brokerage company. These models are usually more expensive than normal cars because they need hardware upgrades, like LiDAR or other sensors. Some companies are charging users extra for accessing the software functions, similar to what Tesla does.

But to have a car merely capable of providing city NOA is not enough. You also need to actually live in one of the few first-tier cities where the function has been made available, like Beijing, Shanghai, Shenzhen, or Guangzhou. Because of that, city NOA remains a niche technology in China right now (though few companies have shared data on their tech’s adoption).

For example, in addition to the XPeng test drive in Guangzhou, ChinaDriven’s Sundin has also test-driven a Li Auto vehicle with similar features in Beijing. He can’t use it in his daily commute, however, because he lives in Changsha, a second-tier city where no car company has enabled city NOA functions yet.

He notes how even in cities where it’s offered, navigation is often obstructed by poor road markings, new construction, pedestrians, or two-wheeled vehicles. “There’s a lot going on in China. The city is being turned over year on year; roads are being repainted,” he says. “And do mopeds drive on the road? Do they drive on the pavements?” 

Haomo’s Cai echoes this: “[T]he real urban environment is far more complicated than what is imagined. The planning, policies, driving styles are different in each city,” she said. “For example, the traffic lights we usually see have three signs—red, yellow, and green. But some cities have five-sign lights, Chinese characters as signs, or triangle-shaped lights.”

But even within these pilot places, city NOA products still only offer limited functionalities.

Lei Xing, the former chief editor at China Auto Review, drove a recent XPeng model for a week in Beijing to test its autopilot features. XPeng was the first Chinese company to bring urban autonomous navigation to China’s capital city. So far, its autonomous features are limited to Beijing’s major ring roads and expressways. 

One night when the traffic was light, he drove from a train station on the outskirts of the city all the way to Beijing’s innermost ring road highway, and XPeng’s tech did the driving for the whole process. Xing was impressed enough, but it still didn’t fully meet his expectations, particularly when traffic picked up.

He believes the automakers oversell their NOA’s capabilities: “I think the reality is much more difficult. These goals are quite aggressive, and I’m doubtful [that they will become true].”

XPeng, Li Auto, and Baidu didn’t respond to questions sent by MIT Technology Review. A Huawei spokesperson responded in an email that Huawei’s Advanced Driving System “has reached the start of production (SOP)” and focuses on three major scenarios: “highway driving, urban driving, and parking.”

Accidents waiting to happen

Even those who have been impressed by the urban NOA systems say it’s still a stressful experience. “When the traffic is busy, it will occasionally attempt to change lanes and cut someone off…sometimes it was too aggressive and it felt like I could bump into the car behind me,” Xing says. 

Sundin also felt stressed when he tested XPeng’s features in Guangzhou. “To be honest, if you are a responsible driver and you are working with these systems, you are under a lot more pressure,” he says, mainly because he couldn’t predict how the car was going to react to traffic situations. “It can make you tired if you are properly monitoring what the system is doing,” he says.

Some of the cars offer checks on drivers to make sure they are paying attention. Xing says XPeng’s system would sometimes ask him to steer the wheel a little just to prove his hands were still holding the wheel. If the driver fails to do so, the car will warn the driver every few seconds. He says he also needed to complete a driver education procedure in which he was repeatedly reminded that the driver needs to stay focused and ready to take over the wheel. Sundin, however, found the same education mechanism lacking. The driver is asked to complete several multiple-choice questions, but he warns that it’s hardly an obstacle if you just click through all the answers to finish it quickly. 

The fact that not every driver could be using the technology responsibly also means others on the road are more at risk. Unlike robotaxis, which are usually clearly labeled as such on the exterior or have noticeable sensors and cameras, a car with experimental NOA systems looks the same as any other car on the road.

“I don’t want to be part of someone else’s pilot if I’m driving a vehicle on the road,” says Tu, who has mixed feelings about how the products are currently being used. He thinks the industry is only one or two severe accidents away from the public and regulators turning against it.

“[How can you] strike that balance between being realistic and safe with your system but also using it as a selling point for your cars?” asks Sundin. “It’s a difficult situation, and I don’t know what the solution is. But definitely, if you are rolling it out, the education around these systems needs to speed up fast.”

Correction: We updated the name of William Sundin’s YouTube channel. It should be ChinaDriven, not ChinaDrive.

China is escalating its war on kids’ screen time

This story first appeared in China Report, MIT Technology Review’s newsletter about technology developments in China. Sign up to receive it in your inbox every Tuesday.

Two years ago, parents around the world likely looked at China with a bit of jealousy: the country had instituted a strict three-hour-per-week limit for children playing video games. In the time since, it’s also demanded that TikTok-like social media platforms curate a heavily filtered content pool for users under 18, while also limiting their screen time and spending in the apps. 

For better or worse, these moves have put China ahead of just about every other country in terms of controlling how minors use the internet.

But Beijing is now going even bigger: last week, the government escalated its current regime into a comprehensive set of restrictions and regulations on how children use all apps, with the goal of limiting them to age-appropriate content on their phones, smart watches, speakers, and more.

On August 2, China’s cyberspace administrator released the “Guidelines for the Establishment of Minors’ Modes for the Mobile Internet.” Essentially, this is a cross-platform, cross-device, government-led parental control system that has been painstakingly planned out by Beijing. Whereas past rules mainly required cooperation from app companies, the government is now asking three sides—app developers, app store providers, and makers of smartphones and other smart devices—to coordinate with each other on a comprehensive “minors’ mode.” This would apply to Chinese companies, though non-Chinese tech giants like Apple and Samsung would be asked to cooperate with the system too. 

The rules are incredibly specific: kids under eight, for instance, can only use smart devices for 40 minutes every day and only consume content about “elementary education, hobbies and interests, and liberal arts education”; when they turn eight, they graduate to 60 minutes of screen time and “entertainment content with positive guidance.” Honestly, this newsletter would have to go on forever to explain all the specifics.

I think part of the reason the guidelines are so detailed—prescribing exactly the products that tech companies need to build for underage users—is that the government wants to increase enforcement and eliminate any loopholes, like those it’s seen children exploit in regulations on gaming and social media use. 

To take a step back, those rules have generally been pretty effective. A year after the three-hour-per-week gaming rules were instituted, 77% of young gamers had reduced the amount of time spent gaming each week, according to a 2022 survey conducted by Niko Partners, a research firm focusing on the Asian games market. Tencent’s earnings in the first quarter of 2023 also show “a dramatic 96% decrease in gaming hours and 90% decrease in gaming spending” by underage gamers from three years ago, Xiaofeng Zeng, a vice president at Niko Partners, tells me.

But when there are rules, there will always be workarounds. Of the gamers surveyed in 2022, 29% still reported weekly game time over three hours, mostly by using their adult relatives’ accounts. While some companies, like Tencent and NetEase, have started to use facial recognition to verify the actual player, most game developers don’t have the capability to do that yet. Underage gamers are also fueling the growth of gaming account rental platforms, which have less incentive or technological know-how to filter out underage users. 

So now Beijing is moving toward a standardized technical system that allows institutions—whether the government or private tech companies—to have almost total, end-to-end control over individual young users in areas far beyond gaming. Many parents, both in and outside China, have celebrated Beijing’s past parental controls as the right approach for a government to take. But will all those people be comfortable with the government’s ever-intensifying restrictions?

(One important caveat I should note: Jeremy Daum, a senior fellow at the Yale Law School Paul Tsai China Center, points out that the rules may not, at least at first, be binding; for example, the regulation has not laid out the liability for companies that fail to comply.)

I’m curious to see how legislators in the United States will respond, since some are trying to introduce similar rules. 

My colleague Tate Ryan-Mosley has written about the recent wave of child safety bills being proposed across the US. One of the major obstacles for these rules is that they are hard to enforce technically. In some ways, China’s detailed planning for “minors’ mode” could be instructive for other governments interested in translating child safety concerns into the language of app development and regulation. (Of course, I doubt any American legislator would publicly endorse a piece of Chinese regulation.) 

But with increased control come even more concerns about personal data (a point I also made back in March in a piece about limits on TikTok use). As Tate asked in The Technocrat, her newsletter on tech policy, in April: “[A]ll this legislation depends on verifying the ages of users online, which is hugely difficult and presents new privacy risks. Do we really want to provide driver’s license information to Meta, for example?”

Beijing has an easier time answering that question. The government has already built a comprehensive national identity verification system that the gaming and social media companies are using to discover underage users’ accounts. It is also more comfortable and adamant about deciding what content (politics, LGBTQ issues, uncensored news, etc.) is not for children. (The US is catching up on that.)

In the end, it’s the same technical system that protects children from harm, censors online speech, and collects vast amounts of personal data. It’s the same paternalistic attitude that determines what children should watch and what adults should read. How comfortable are we in pushing the balance further to the side of centralized control rather than individual decision-making?

If you are a parent, how do you feel about China’s new and old rules restricting minors’ internet use? I want to hear from you. Write to me at zeyi@technologyreview.com.

Catch up with China

1. Speaking of app stores, Apple just removed more than 100 generative AI apps from its Chinese app store because they violated the country’s new generative AI regulation. (Gizmodo)

  • The law, passed in July, is wholly focused on generative AI, continuing the Chinese government’s whack-a-mole tradition when it comes to taming new tech phenomena. (MIT Technology Review)

2. China has spent billions of dollars in recent years to build “cities like sponges,” but severe flooding this summer, which has affected 30 million people and caused 20 deaths, shows it’s not enough. (Bloomberg $)

3. TikTok could soon obtain a payment service license in Indonesia, which would boost its e-commerce ambitions. (Reuters $)

4. Neville Roy Singham, an American tech mogul, is at the center of a global web of donations that pushes pro-China talking points within progressive groups. (New York Times $)

5. How Li Ziqi, the original Chinese cottagecore creator on YouTube, rose to fame and then quietly disappeared. (New Yorker $)

6. A new report found that the solar panel industry—with its close ties to China’s Xinjiang region, where forced labor has been documented—has become less transparent about the origin of its products. (New York Times $)

7. As China’s economic growth slows, more wealthy Chinese people are turning to a US program that offers permanent residency in exchange for business investments. (Wall Street Journal $)

8. A batch of online matchmaking apps in China have been created for a new demographic: parents who want their children to marry as soon as possible. (Rest of World)

Lost in translation

The extreme summer heat of 2023 has made it a great year for Chinese air-conditioner manufacturers. According to the Chinese financial publication Yicai, the El Niño phenomenon caused temperatures to reach new heights starting in June, pushing consumers to splurge on AC purchases early this year. 

Domestic sales of AC units in the first half of 2023 increased about 40% over last year. The CEO of a Chinese home appliance company told the publication that this is the only large appliance to see an increase in sales this year. 

Meanwhile, the global demand for AC also keeps increasing (even though cooling systems are a double-edged sword when it comes to climate change). In June, China’s AC exports rose 12.2%. As the largest AC exporter in the world, the country already has an annual production capacity of 255 million units, and that’s set to increase by another 20 million this year.

One more thing

What’s the trendiest pet on Chinese social media these days? Mango pits. As the South China Morning Post reported, some people are washing, brushing, drying, and applying aloe vera gel to mango pits to make them look like animals, the seed fiber resembling fluffy hair. There are even mango pit pet influencers on social media now! I love mangoes, but I think this is going way too far.

Two photos of mango pit pets, one in yellow and one in pink.

SOUTH CHINA MORNING POST
Decoding the data of the Chinese mpox outbreak

This story first appeared in China Report, MIT Technology Review’s newsletter about technology developments in China. Sign up to receive it in your inbox every Tuesday.

Almost exactly a year after the World Health Organization declared mpox (formerly known as monkeypox) a public health emergency, the hot spot for the outbreak has quietly moved from the US and Europe to Asia. China in particular is experiencing a concerning increase in mpox cases right now.

This morning, I published a story on the developing mpox situation there and the government’s response so far. While Beijing did recently issue a guidance on mpox prevention, the country hasn’t taken a very proactive approach to containing the outbreak—a stark contrast from its strict covid policies (which I wrote about extensively last year).

It’s particularly worrying that the government hasn’t talked at all about using mpox vaccines, though there are three options available globally and they have proved to be effective at containing the mpox spread in countries including the United States

Beijing’s omission may be a result of “technology nationalism,” says Yanzhong Huang, a senior fellow for global health at the Council on Foreign Relations. But delaying the approval of effective foreign vaccines could stymie prevention and result in more dangerous outcomes, Huang warns—the same thing that happened with covid.

You can read more about the difficulties in containing the mpox spread in China in the story today. But in this newsletter, I want to highlight a different challenge: because of the way Beijing has so far reported mpox data and the way the WHO publishes it, it’s quite difficult to understand the exact scale of mpox in the country.

When I started reporting this story, I found that the only available mpox case count China has published is a one-time report tallying cases from June 2 to June 30. No information on weekly developments or cases from before or after June has been made public, even though other Asian countries, including Japan, started to see cases rise back in March. 

But when I looked up the WHO dashboard on the global mpox outbreak, with data starting in January 2022, I was surprised to find a consistent stream of new cases being reported by China several times a week, as recently as July 20.

For some time I thought this meant Chinese health authorities or researchers had been quietly reporting more timely data to the WHO while keeping the information inaccessible to the public. After all, something similar has happened before with covid data

Honestly, I found this data surprising and alarming. News about mpox in China has been mostly under the radar, but as the WHO overview explains: “In the most recent week of full reporting, 7 countries reported an increase in the weekly number of cases, with the highest increase reported in China.” The WHO data shows that from May to July, China reported 315 mpox cases, the most around the world in this time frame.

Sounds quite bad, right? 

It turns out the reality is a tad more complicated. On the WHO website, the recent mpox data listed under China is the sum of cases reported in China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong. 

The lack of data separation is significant here for a few reasons. First, while case counts have indeed risen in China, we don’t know by how much and over what time frame. China reported 106 cases in June alone, and it’s safe to assume there were additional cases in May and July. But there’s no information there to help us understand the exact urgency and severity of the outbreak, which can lead to panic and uninformed interventions. What’s more, as its handling of covid shows, the Chinese government may be holding onto data to serve its own interests. 

Beyond that, this combined data reporting obscures the fact that Taiwan and China, with their different governing bodies, have responded to public health emergencies in very different ways. 

While China has not signaled any interest in using mpox vaccines, Taiwan, which has its own CDC, has already administered over 72,000 shots so far. While China has only issued a one-month report of case counts, Taiwan has a public database showing how many new cases are reported each week, making it easy to see that the outbreak is on the decline there, six months after local transmission started. 

So aggregating very different sources of data creates a confusing landscape and makes it hard to follow the impact of public health measures.

This means that when the WHO data shows a 550% increase in weekly new cases in China between July 10 and July 17, the jump means little. It doesn’t reveal the direction of the mpox outbreak; it only emphasizes the broken, irregular pattern of case reporting from China. 

This is not to say the outbreak in China is insignificant, but that the data on the WHO website can easily mislead observers. 

It’s important to realize that despite how authoritative they may sound, international organizations like the WHO don’t have a magic source of data that overcomes the limited public health information coming out of China. It can only rely on individual countries to voluntarily report such data. (The WHO didn’t immediately respond to questions about its data aggregation practices; today is a public holiday in Switzerland, where it’s headquartered.)

Unfortunately, as the status of Taiwan remains one of the most sensitive security topics to Beijing, even the act of singling out the island’s public health data can be seen as a political move. That is larger than any technical obstacle. At a crucial time like this, transparent and timely case counting is one of the most important public health tools against infectious diseases. It’s too bad that politics is getting in the way of that. 

Do you think WHO should disaggregate the mpox data of China and Taiwan? What are your reasons? Tell me at zeyi@technologyreview.com.

Catch up with China

1. Chinese feminists are rushing out to support the Barbie movie. (But you can’t do a “Barbenheimer” double feature yet, since Oppenheimer isn’t arriving in China until August 30.) (Financial Times $)

2. The US government believes Chinese hackers have inserted malware into the communications, logistics, and supply networks of US military bases. (New York Times $)

3. A former party official in the city of Hangzhou, who oversaw the rise of tech giant Alibaba, was imprisoned for life for taking $25 million in bribes. (Bloomberg $)

4. Volkswagen bought a 5% stake in the Chinese electric vehicle company Xpeng, and the companies will jointly develop two EV models under the Volkswagen brand. (Wall Street Journal $)

5. TikTok’s newly launched ad library in Europe shows that Chinese major state media have run over 1,000 ads on the platform, even though TikTok’s policy forbids political ads. (Forbes)

6. Shein spent $600,000 on lobbying activities between April 1 and June 30, nearly three times its lobbying spending in the first quarter. (Business of Fashion)

7. China will restrict the export of long-range civilian drones, citing concerns that they might be converted to military use. (Associated Press)

8. A Taiwanese businessman accused of espionage and stealing state secrets was freed after two years in a Chinese jail. (BBC)

Lost in translation

A new AI photo generator app called 妙鸭相机 (Miaoya Camera), developed with support from a Alibaba-owned company, is all the rage in China right now. Users can upload 21 photos with their faces to create personalized portraits that look as if they were created by a professional. It’s priced at just 9.9 RMB ($1.38), a tiny fraction of what chain photography studios often charge. (These studios have become a popular business in recent years.)

Experts told Chinese publication Southern Metropolis Daily that the technology Miaoya Camera uses—mostly the open-source model Stable Diffusion and a technique called “low-rank adaptation of large language models” to improve the result—is nothing groundbreaking but just well packaged for the user experience. Expectedly, a controversy then arose about the broad data use permissions in the app’s user agreement; the app apologized and promised it will use personal data only to generate profile photos.

One more thing

These Barbies and Kens are from Dongbei, the northeastern region of China, where food portions are gigantic and people are often stereotyped as being straightforward and tough. (Sort of like the Texas of China, you know.) But really, these are created by an AI artist, Kim Wang, through Midjourney. I talked to Wang in a story earlier this year about using Midjourney to reimagine Chinese history.

China is suddenly dealing with another public health crisis: mpox

Hazmat suits, PCR tests, quarantines, and contact tracing—it was hard not to feel déjà vu last week when China’s Center for Disease Control and Prevention published new guidance on how to contain a disease outbreak. 

But what was happening was not another covid wave. Rather, the Chinese government was addressing a potentially significant new public health concern: mpox. The World Health Organization reports China is currently experiencing the world’s fastest increase in cases of mpox (formerly known as monkeypox), and the country needs to act fast to contain the spread.

While the Americas and Europe have mostly contained the mpox outbreak that started in mid-2022, Asia has emerged as the disease’s new hot spot. Japan, South Korea, and Thailand, which all saw sporadic imported cases last year, have reported weekly new case numbers in the double digits in 2023, meaning the virus has been spreading in the domestic population. But according to the latest data reported to the WHO, China has surpassed all other countries in the world, with 315 confirmed cases in just the past three months—though irregular case reporting from Beijing means it’s impossible to know the true scale of the disease at this point.  

Mpox is less contagious than covid, but since 2022, more than 88,000 people have contracted the disease, which can be painful and even debilitating for some. More than 150 people have died. Some countries have been more successful than others at containing domestic mpox outbreaks—and much of their success is arguably a result of proactive measures like vaccination campaigns.

But the Chinese government has barely started to take action. 

“Compared with the response to covid-19 … the [Chinese] response is certainly dramatically different,” says Yanzhong Huang, a senior fellow for global health at the Council on Foreign Relations. “Even though [mpox] is less likely to develop into a large outbreak in the country, the Pollyanna attitude may encourage the spread of the disease among the at-risk population—unless they take a more active campaign against the disease.”

How it’s spreading now

In May, the WHO declared that mpox was no longer a public health emergency of international concern (PHEIC) because cases had gone down significantly in countries that had seen large outbreaks last year, mostly in the Americas and Europe. (Mpox has been endemic in West and Central Africa for decades and remains so.) 

“Overall, compared to where we were last year, we’re definitely in a different place,” says Krutika Kuppalli, an infectious-disease physician and chair of the Infectious Disease Society of America’s Global Health Committee. “We have much fewer cases, but we are seeing sporadic outbreaks in different parts of the world.” 

Indeed, by the time the WHO rescinded the PHEIC declaration, many Asian countries were already starting to see an uptick. Japan was the first Asian country to report a significant increase in mpox cases, in March. In May, a report by researchers in the country warned that the disease could surge across Asia, owing to the connectedness between Japan and other Asian countries and the low mpox vaccination rate in the region. If the outbreak grows to the level that it did in the West, the researchers noted, over 10,000 cases might be expected in Japan alone before mpox is successfully contained.

It’s less clear what exactly is happening in China. According to data collected by the WHO, China reported 315 new mpox cases from May to July. A case count this high suggests that not all cases were travel related.

But—in another situation reminiscent of its covid response—China isn’t as forthcoming as other countries with its disease data; it doesn’t publish weekly reports of new cases. Rather, it has released a one-time report of the number of mpox cases recorded in June: 106. The Chinese government didn’t release data from May, and hasn’t released any data about July cases yet. 

The WHO, though, lumps together the case counts from Taiwan, which has its own government and CDC, and Hong Kong under the name of China. And there’s no way for the public to separate the data. So the 315 number includes the 106 cases Beijing says it identified in July, plus the number of infections in Taiwan and Hong Kong over May, June, and July. 

This all further obscures the true toll of mpox in China—even though it’s critical during an infectious-disease outbreak to be on top of things as soon as possible. 

The Chinese name for mpox—猴痘, or houdou—has also been thrown around casually as a slur against gay men.

“We also need to understand more about the people that have been infected,” Kuppalli says, “such as … the demographics, the clinical presentation, their immune status, and about how they’ve been presenting to care. I think that type of information is important.”

A muddled response that makes LGBTQ communities a target

The lack of clarity on how the disease has spread has caused some Chinese people to panic. The news that mpox cases have started to appear in the country has been circulating for weeks. But not until July 26 did China’s CDC and health ministry co-publish a new guidance on how to prevent its spread, and even that left unanswered questions. 

The directive asked that all confirmed mpox patients transfer to a medical facility for quarantine unless they have only mild symptoms. It said contact tracing going back three weeks would be conducted for every patient, and their close contacts would be asked to self-quarantine for three weeks. It also recommended that local authorities monitor the mpox virus level in wastewater around certain areas.

What makes monitoring the outbreak more difficult in China is that, as in the West, the current mpox spread has been seen mostly among communities of men who have sex with men (MSM). And similar to what happened in the US and Europe, that association is consistently misinterpreted in China to suggest that mpox is only an STD spread by gay men through sexual activities—a particularly dangerous connection, as the LGBTQ community is increasingly targeted in the country. 

Many Chinese social media users who have spotted men with skin lesions in public have been posting their photos to ask whether it’s an mpox symptom. And the Chinese name for mpox—猴痘, or houdou—has also been thrown around casually as a slur against gay men.

To efficiently stop the spread of mpox, public health officials need to strike a delicate balance between destigmatizing the disease by dispelling the idea that it affects only gay men and prioritizing the MSM communities that are most vulnerable to it. 

“Working with the people that are affected, helping to have non-stigmatizing language and communication, has been hugely effective in helping to curb the outbreak” in the West, Kuppalli says. 

So far, some local LGBTQ communities in China feel they’re on their own. 

M, who works for a queer rights organization in Guangzhou and asked to be identified only by his first initial given the sensitivity of his work, points out that the CDC recommended wastewater monitoring specifically near venues that MSM communities frequent, including bars, clubs, and saunas. He says this has become controversial within the Chinese LGBTQ community, and that some organizers feel this puts a target on their backs. 

“It will take a long time. I have some friends who have already traveled to Hong Kong or Macau to get vaccinated for mpox.” 

Another LGBTQ organizer, Suihou, who works in the central province of Hubei and asked to be identified by a pseudonym, tells MIT Technology Review that even though contact tracing information is supposed to be strictly confidential, he has seen one example in which an mpox patient’s private information, including phone number, national ID, address, and HIV status, was leaked and passed around on social media.

Organizers like M and Suihou are doing their own work to mobilize a disease response. To spread information about mpox prevention, M has recently sent text messages to 700 people and hosted in-person lectures that reached over 900 people.

And Suihou has worked with one mpox patient closely, helping him get testing and treatment. Not all the medical workers they’ve encountered have been trained on how to handle the sensitivity of these cases, he says; during the contact tracing process, the doctor told the patient that this disease is a problem for “your kind of people.”

Suihou warns that some people may avoid seeking medical help altogether, particularly given the lack of state support for mandatory quarantine and contact tracing. 

“From the individual cases that I have heard of, everyone who has a confirmed case is being asked to go to a quarantine facility,” Suihou says. But, he explains, since the government has not provided a budget to help cover the quarantine, as it did with covid, patients have no choice but to pay for the hospital stay and all medical tests out of their own pockets. Many marginalized individuals, who are also more vulnerable in an infectious-disease outbreak, may not be able to afford that.

“With the slowdown of the [Chinese] economy, local governments don’t have the physical capacity or even the willingness to invest more in public health,” Huang explains. Even the WHO doesn’t have funding specifically earmarked for mpox prevention; it has been using its emergency fund to cover mpox-related work. 

A lot of the financial burden will again fall on local organizers. M tells me that his organization is using funds intended for HIV prevention to conduct mpox outreach work.

All of this could further disincentivize people who get infected from seeking medical tests and treatment. This in turn would make the community spread of mpox even harder to track—and could undermine prevention efforts taken so far.

A lack of available vaccines

Much as with covid, vaccination is one of the best ways to get mpox under control. Worldwide, three vaccines are currently being used for mpox prevention: ACAM2000, MVA-BN (also known as JYNNEOS in the US), and Lc16m8. All these vaccines were originally designed for protection against smallpox but have been found effective against mpox. 

The US has administered more than 1.2 million JYNNEOS and ACAM2000 shots. And in Asia, South Korea imported 10,000 JYNNEOS shots last year and is planning to procure another 20,000 this year, while Taiwan, despite its small size, has procured and administered over 72,000 JYNNEOS shots so far. Japan, meanwhile, has relied on a Japanese company to produce its own Lc16m8, while also donating doses of the vaccine to countries including Colombia.

But none of these vaccines have been approved for use in China. The situation recalls how China refused to import any mRNA covid vaccines, instead relying on a few homegrown vaccines that were shown to be less effective. In this case, though, the country doesn’t currently produce any of its own smallpox vaccines; production was terminated after smallpox was eradicated globally in 1980. 

Bavarian Nordic, the Danish company that produces the JYNNEOS vaccine, tells MIT Technology Review that it can’t disclose client information unless requested by the government and can’t confirm whether China has procured any JYNNEOS shots. But it says the company is not in the process of applying to register the vaccine in China.

The WHO also has a sharing mechanism in place that allows member states to receive vaccines if needed. But it’s unclear whether China has applied for mpox vaccines. The organization did not immediately respond to an inquiry about whether there are plans to send vaccines to China.

The new Chinese CDC guidance on mpox made no mention of any vaccine as part of its outbreak response. “It’s quite unlikely that China will focus on procuring vaccines at this moment, since there’s no precedent and [no] emergency approval of the vaccines. Rather, there seems to be a focus on surveillance, monitoring, quarantine, contact tracing, etc.,” says Zoe Leung, a senior associate at Bridge Consulting, a Beijing-based communication consultancy specializing in public health.

It may not be this way forever: Sinopharm, a Chinese state-owned pharmaceutical company, announced last November that it had developed the world’s first mRNA vaccine against mpox, and it has been found effective in preclinical studies. On July 13, Sinopharm officially applied for clinical trial approval for a “replication-defective mpox vaccine,” though it’s unclear whether these are the same products. Sinopharm did not immediately reply to questions about its mpox vaccine development.

“There is domestic research [on a mpox vaccine], but we don’t know when it can be commercially available. It will take a long time,” says M, the organizer in Guangzhou. “I have some friends who have already traveled to Hong Kong or Macau to get vaccinated for mpox.” 

But for Chinese people to get vaccinations outside mainland China, there is often a high cost, a long wait time, and layers of bureaucracy to wade through. It’s again similar to trends seen earlier in the pandemic, when Chinese people with means traveled to Hong Kong to get mRNA covid vaccines.

“It doesn’t necessarily mean [Beijing is] not interested in vaccines,” says Huang, “but there’s this technology nationalism that discouraged them from rapid approval of the use of foreign vaccines.” And that, he warns, “certainly contributed to the rapid increase in covid-related mortalities.”