The scene calls to mind the 1938 radio broadcast that panicked thousands of Americans when the announcer stated that Martians were invading the earth – it later turned out to be fictional. The cause of this contemporary Chinese panic turned out to be not as simple as the earlier one.
On June 6, in Qi County of Henan province, a malfunction at the Limin Irradiation Factory caused radioactive material to be trapped in a pipeline rather than carried safely to its storage pool after the process of food irradiation. The administration was aware of this fault, but had failed to solve the problem. What’s worse, the local authorities had kept it a secret and blocked all news concerning the incident.
Truth will come to light sooner or later. But when the authorities missed the best timing to inform the public, space for rumors and mistrust was generated, some Chinese critics pointed out afterward.
On July 10, some online postings said there was a “radioactivity leak,” which caused concern among local people. The local media also reported this, though it couldn’t be confirmed with the proper authorities. As a result, more and more people began to gossip and discuss this. Finally, on July 12, the local government held a press conference at which the breakdown of the pipeline was reported, but the “radioactivity leak” was denied.
However, the failure of the authorities to publicize this crisis in the first place had made the local residents lose faith in the government. Even though the Environmental Protection Ministry on July 16 verified there was no radiation pollution, it was too late.
Another rumor appeared on the Internet on the morning of July 17, saying that cobalt-60 – a highly radioactive material – would explode at 4 p.m. on that day. The posting warned people to escape at least 20 kilometers away for safety, adding that children were most apt to be harmed by the explosion. This “breaking news” shocked the local citizens. “I would rather believe it than disbelieve it,” a local resident who ran from the scene responded to the media afterwards.
On July 17, people began to flee by the thousands. Around 1 p.m., under a burning sun numerous vehicles – including motorcycles, trucks, tractors, pedicabs and cars – crowded the streets in a rush to get out to nearby cities. Many children were taken by adults.
Those who doubted the rumors were influenced by the large-scale collective movement. Even those who had no idea about what was going on joined the great escape. Some reports said up to 90 percent of the people in Qi County had left.
At the peak of the exodus, local authorities were holed up in a local hotel trying to come up with measures to handle this public crisis. Around 5 p.m. they started to utilize all available channels – television, the Internet, mobile phones and campaign vehicles – to send out the message that the town was safe. By then many of the “refugees” had reached other cities.
Luckily, nearby cities received the crowds from Qi County and helped spread the news that their homes were safe. The Kaifeng city government released a statement from an expert of the China Institute of Atomic Energy affirming that there was no radioactive leak, no pollution and no danger. The city government held a press conference to clear up the rumors. The “refugees” continued to receive text messages by cell phone repeating the testimony of the expert from the central authority. By the end of the 18th, most people had returned to their homes.
Some official media blamed the false rumors for this incident. But many netizens argued that it was the lack of timely, transparent information from the government that made people believe the rumors.
As to why the authorities failed to inform the public as soon as the malfunction of the radioactive source was detected, the director of the propaganda department of the county Communist Party Committee told the media that there was no danger, based on the judgment of the environmental department, so there was no need to make a mountain out of a molehill by announcing it with great fanfare. She compared this to a person’s heath. “If one is healthy, does he or she have to yell out 'I am not ill?'" she asked.
Nevertheless, since the issue concerned radiation, which has the potential to seriously harm people, the authorities should have handled the matter with greater sensitivity, one critic wrote. Knowing it could panic the public, the authorities should have handled it in an open and accountable manner, grasping the critical moment to share information.
In fact, the country’s Open Government Information Regulations, which took effect in May, 2008, stipulate that officials should issue correct information whenever false or incomplete information is spread that could influence social stability and disturb the social order. But the Qi Country government reportedly blocked the news about the malfunction and deleted the online postings when there were initial rumors about the “leakage.”
Despite such rules as the Open Government Information Regulations, many Chinese authorities still have not learned that facing a problem directly is more effective than hiding it. Until they do, rumors are likely to hold greater credibility with the public than official posturing.






