Always Sunny in Cyberspace: China’s Crackdown on Pessimism

Why the Government Thinks Sadness Is a Problem

In most countries, posting “life sucks” on social media earns you a sympathetic emoji or, at worst, silence. In China, it could now earn you a visit from the Cyberspace Administration. The government has launched a two-month campaign to purge the internet of what it calls “excessively exaggerated negative and pessimistic sentiments.” That’s right—melancholy itself is now a crime scene.

The official explanation? To “rectify negative emotions” and create a more “civilized and rational” online environment. Translation: nobody’s allowed to be a buzzkill when the Party wants blue skies and sunshine.

Here’s the awkward part. People aren’t being negative just for fun. China’s economy is slowing down, the job market is cutthroat, and housing prices remain absurd. Young people look at their parents’ lives—stable jobs, rising income, an apartment—and then look at their own bleak prospects. Many are moving back home, becoming what they call “full-time children.”

Buzzwords have popped up for coping: tang ping (lying flat, or giving up on the rat race) and bai lan (let it rot). These phrases capture the mood of a generation that feels there’s no point in grinding if the reward is endless stress and no security. Imagine graduating into 18% youth unemployment, then being told to smile harder online.

Plenty of influencers have discovered that joking about reality can get them silenced. Hu Chenfeng, a livestreamer, had his entire account scrubbed after mocking people with phrases like “Android person.” What began as a silly gag about inequality became a censorship trigger.

Meanwhile, Zhang Xuefeng, a fiery online tutor, told students that life is unfair and they should make practical choices. This week, he found his accounts blocked from gaining new followers. His crime? Possibly telling too much truth. In China, reality itself can be too pessimistic to post.

The Punishments Awaiting the Pessimists

Authorities aren’t just wagging their finger. Social media platforms like Xiaohongshu, Weibo, and Kuaishou have been threatened with “strict punishments” if they don’t rein in sad vibes. That means deleting posts, throttling accounts, and erasing jokes that go too far. The internet must always be “clear and healthy,” said officials, which apparently means free of frowns.

As for individuals, no one knows the exact consequences—but when accounts with millions of followers vanish overnight, the message is clear. Think positive, or else.

Utterly Incomprehensible

It’s almost hard to imagine. A government trying to outlaw pessimism is like a doctor banning coughs. Sure, you can silence the sound, but the sickness is still there. Experts point out that venting online is a coping mechanism. Take it away, and the stress only builds.

And here lies the irony: the more people are forced to pretend everything’s fine, the more obvious it becomes that everything isn’t. The slogans about “great ideals” clash with reality, where many young people feel stuck, overworked, and underpaid.

In America, we had the “slacker” generation of the 1990s. In China, they have bai lan, which roughly translates to “meh, let it rot.” The state seems to think banning the phrase will cure the despair. That’s like outlawing country music to fix heartbreak.

The truth is, sadness, sarcasm, and frustration are part of being human. But in China’s sunny cyberspace, you can only express them quietly at the dinner table, never in a post. Because heaven forbid someone admits online that studying for years only to land a dead-end job might feel… useless.

What makes this campaign truly chilling is not just the censorship of words, but the attempt to police feelings themselves. The Chinese Communist Party is no longer content with silencing dissent or burying criticism—it now seeks to regulate despair, to outlaw hopelessness, to dictate even the private sighs of a weary generation. This is power at its most ominous: a state that demands not only obedience of action, but obedience of thought and emotion. And when a government insists that its people must always appear cheerful, even as their futures dim, the silence that follows is not harmony—it is the quiet of a society learning that even its sorrow belongs to the Party. George Orwell would be nodding with dismay.