New Statesman Ai Weiwei guest edit shortlisted for Amnesty Award

Ai Weiwei, Cheng Yizhong and the New Statesman nominated.

Amnesty International have announced the shortlist for their 2013 Media Awards, and the New Statesman has been nominated for a series of three articles published in our 22 October issue guest-edited by Chinese artist Ai Weiwei. Amnesty’s Media Awards “recognize excellence in human rights reporting and acknowledge journalism’s significant contribution to the UK public’s awareness and understanding of human rights issues.”

Ai Weiwei is an internationally renowned artist and a free speech advocate. He was previously detained by the Chinese government on charges of tax evasion and is still prevented from leaving the country. He is currently appealing a fine imposed by the Beijing Local Taxation Bureau for $1.85m.

The New Statesman’s editorial team spent six months working closely with Ai and his team in Beijing to produce an ambitious issue dedicated to China and its future. The three nominated articles are : “Fact have blood as evidence”, an interview Ai conducted with blind civil activist Chen Guangcheng; the “The Virus of Censorship”, in which newspaper editor Cheng Yizhong reveals how journalists in China are kept in a state of fear and endemic self-censorship through government manipulation and policing; and “Meet the 50 Cent Party”, which saw Ai Weiwei expose the underworld of state-sponsored commentators by interviewing an unnamed twenty six year old graduate who explained the process by which he is hired to influence the thoughts of ‘netizens’.

The issue was published bilingually, produced as a digital issue in Mandarin and a print edition in English.  With original content from Chinese journalists, authors, artists and musicians, the magazine was edited in a foreign language for the first time in its history. It was a rewarding challenge that our commissioning editor Sophie Elmhirst outlined eloquently in this post-production blog.

The New Statesman and Ai Weiwei also jointly launched a Twitter campaign which posed the question “what is the future of China?” to ordinary citizen and collated thousands of responses, a selection of which were published in the magazine.

Following publication, we urged readers to download and to share the issue, for free, across social networking websites in an attempt to breach “The Great Firewall”. Our deputy Helen Lewis reiterated our commitment to free, uncensored journalism in this blog post - which offers links to the magazine as a sharable torrent file, magnet link and PDF.  

These three features revealed a side of China rarely seen in the west, and would never have seen publication in their authors’ home country. This issue was an act of solidarity with like-minded writers on the other side of the world; a promise that we would do our part to give a home to their stories, so often stifled. In his leader for the issue, Ai wrote:

I chose to dedicate my issue of the magazine to China, its people, its history, its culture, its current situation and its future. My country has to recognise itself, which is a challenge to anybody at any stage in life.

…the only way we can be successful, in China and in life, is through greater communication and wider awareness, in constantly questioning our standards and our conditions. You, as readers, are part of this, you are active members of this family, and you can be proud of that. We should all be proud of that.

The New Statesman is nominated alongside Janine di Giovanni’s Seven Days in Syria, published by Granta, in the Consumer Magazine category.

The issue has also been shortlisted for the British Media Award’s Cross Media project.

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I could have sworn that the Lincoln City striker was my dustman...

Watching a game on tenterhooks to see if the manager picks his nose.

Too busy thinking about other things, so didn’t at first realise that I was witnessing possibly the greatest event in the history of civilisation. Or since 1863, when the FA was formed.

I had tuned in to watch Burnley v Lincoln City for the pleasure of seeing if the former’s manager, Sean Dyche, is ever going to pick his nose in public. His hand goes up to his nose every 30 seconds, gives it a rub, then when he’s about to start poking around inside, he thinks better of it, only to start again a minute later. He clearly can’t help it – it’s a nervous tic, which all managers have, though some hide it better.

Then I started studying the Lincoln team, none of whose phizogs, mannerisms or walks I know. By this stage in the season, I am pretty familiar with every regular Premier player, having grown accustomed to his face, his smile, his ups and downs. When it’s a Cup match with a team from a lower division, in this case a non-League team, the players are strangers. I would not recognise any of them in my porridge.

Then I saw someone I swore was our dustman, large and beefy, with Bobby Charlton hair. I thought he must have wandered on to the pitch from the burger bar – but, no, he was a Lincoln forward, the 16-stone Matt Rhead. Even on the couch, cradling my Beaujolais, I could hear Burnley fans shouting, “You fat bastard.”

Lincoln’s captain was called Waterfall, another player I hadn’t come across before, one of those footballers who spend their whole life in the lower divisions, becoming local legends, if they last long enough, but completely unrecognised elsewhere.

I googled his first name, and oh, my God, it’s only Luke. Luke Waterfall, how romantic is that? Straight out of Mills & Boon. Did he assume that name when he went into show business, Lincoln City Division?

I started thinking of all the fab new names in football, a source of endless reverie when the game is dull. I’m allowed to do this when watching on my own. When watching with my son or anyone else, I impose house rules, which state that all conversation must be linked directly to what is happening on the screen.

Jesus at Man City, what a gift from, er, God for the headline writers. He arrived in January for £27m, a bargain already, especially if he continues to work miracles, har, har. It says “Jesus” on the back of his shirt. His first name is Gabriel, after the archangel, presumably. The sub-editors will have fun with him for years – “Jesus saves”, “Jesus wept”.

I remember waiting in the 1970s when the Scottish player Gerry Queen joined Crystal Palace. I knew that events would turn him into a headline. Then he got a red card: “Queen sent off at Palace”.

The all-time classic football headline was used in February 2000, when Inverness Caledonian Thistle beat Celtic 3-1. The result, one of the biggest upsets in Scottish football, led to the Sun headline

Super Caley go ballistic

Celtic are atrocious

In a lifetime of subbing, you don’t get many occasions when all the planets align so exactly.

The new names that I’ve been enjoying this season include Dunk at Brighton. Haven’t noticed him walking into a headline yet, and I can’t imagine what it will be – something to do with “Dunking donuts”, or “Dunk and disorderly”?

I’ve always liked Robert Snodgrass, now at West Ham. His name sounds so Dickensian. And Southampton’s Virgil van Dijk – wow, my Hollywood hero. Harry Winks at Spurs: what a shame he wasn’t given shirt number 40. When Jeffrey Schlupp appeared in the Leicester line-up last season, I couldn’t wait to decide if his name would fit a verb, a noun, a term of abuse, or a form of semi-sleeping, such as the way I schlupped on the sofa watching Burnley v Lincoln.

Then, blow me, I was wakened violently from my reveries. Just before the end, Lincoln scored – making them the first non-League team to reach the FA Cup quarter-finals in 103 years. And I was watching, sort of . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 24 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The world after Brexit