China boasts of having the world’s largest population of internet users: 1.125 billion by the end of 2025, according to official figures. But as one joke has it, the Great Firewall – blocking not only politically sensitive material but also global tech firms such as Google and Meta – has produced what looks more like the world’s largest intranet.
Beijing is not an anomaly, but a pioneer. Its extraordinary investment in the apparatus of “cyber sovereignty” – others would call it censorship and repression – is guiding other authoritarian countries. A realm defined by connection is fragmenting not just from commercial greed and filter bubbles but due to state fiat, birthing the splinternet.
China exports censorship, legitimising extensive state controls via its World Internet Conference and supplying governments with the tools, laws and expertise to police speech. It benefits both politically and commercially. Iran is believed to be using its tech. Last autumn, a leak revealed that Geedge, a Chinese firm linked to a computer scientist known as “the father of the Great Firewall”, has packaged and sold censorship technologies to countries including Ethiopia, Pakistan and Myanmar. Article 19, a human rights group, has exposed how Chinese infrastructure and digital governance partnerships advance authoritarianism in the Indo-Pacific.
Last year saw at least 313 internet shutdowns in 52 countries, a record, reported Access Now and the #KeepItOn coalition. They happen during crises such as conflict and crackdowns on protest, when lack of information can be deadly as well as repressive. Iran has just partially returned to connectivity after an 88-day blackout, though given the ongoing restrictions there is frustration as much as relief. Cutting your citizens off from the world is not only technically difficult; it can be economically devastating – as Tehran has found – and angers even the politically apathetic.
China’s approach is more sophisticated. Others are following suit. The Iranian shutdown still allowed citizens to use domestic services, such as a state-monitored messaging app and video-sharing site. Russia, which may be testing a “whitelisting” system allowing users to access only approved sites, is aggressively pushing users to Max, a state‑backed rival to WhatsApp and Telegram, which are restricted, with officials claiming concern about fraud and terrorism. But it may struggle to mimic China’s success in creating domestic options which users see as adequate substitutes for western platforms, if not, in some cases, superior – the all-in-one app WeChat looks more attractive to many than WhatsApp.
As it becomes cheaper, easier and less remarkable for states to crackdown on internet access, the work of digital freedom activists is increasingly essential. Yet the US has axed funding for their work. Democracies in Europe and elsewhere should step in, but many are themselves slashing funding for civil society abroad. Countries growing more willing to challenge US tech giants, however, should hold them accountable over their conduct in authoritarian states. They should also support and advise smaller companies which might otherwise be coerced into removing content by foreign governments. Digital freedoms are not a minor issue, but part of the fundamental human right to information and expression. The rise of the splinternet is damaging not only for those directly affected, but for all of us.
