In stifling voices after Zhuhai car attack, China recycles crisis playbook

Control aimed at ensuring that any dissatisfaction with govt doesn't brew

- Joyce ZK Lim and Lim Min Zhang

When word broke on social media that a deadly car rampage had struck his city on Nov 11, a Zhuhai resident surnamed Yang "did not really believe it".

It was only the next day, when China's state broadcaster CCTV reported the incident, that he realised its severity - 35 people killed and 43 injured in the country's deadliest mass attack in a decade.

Police have ascribed the motivation of the 62-year-old perpetrator, who has since been arrested, to his unhappiness over the division of property after his divorce.

Mr Yang, who like many other Chinese declined to give his full name to the media when speaking on a sensitive issue, thought he could have been late to the news. But he was not alone: the death toll was released by the authorities and reported only some 24 hours later, taking the entire nation by surprise.

China's well-oiled censorship machinery had quickly gone to work in the wake of the attack at Zhuhai sports centre. On social media, from Weibo to Douyin, videos and accounts said to be written by eyewitnesses and victims' families were scrubbed, and hashtags were suppressed.

In southern coastal Zhuhai, journalists who sought interviews - The Straits Times included - faced identification checks and surveillance. Others were reportedly obstructed by security personnel.

Even displays of public mourning were tightly controlled. Flowers laid by the public at the sports centre were taken out of sight, to a nearby building that was cordoned off.

Local media reports have focused on the drip-feed of statements issued by the Chinese government. A week after the attack, the victims and their families remain nameless and faceless to the public.