6 minutes read time.
On the eve of a grand military parade designed to project an image of absolute, unshakable control, a lone activist in a city of 30 million people staged a quiet, brilliant act of defiance that has echoed across the globe. As the Chinese Communist Party prepared to roll its newest and most terrifying weapons through the streets of Beijing, a man named Qi Hong used a simple, battery-powered projector to splash slogans of dissent—”No more slavery, we want freedom”—onto a high-rise in Chongqing. This is more than just a news story; it is a perfect and powerful juxtaposition, a tale of two realities that reveals the changing nature of power and protest in the 21st century. On one side, the 20th-century model of authoritarianism: a massive, centralized, and brutally expensive display of hard, physical power. On the other hand, the 21st-century model of resistance: a decentralized, inexpensive, and brilliantly creative act of asymmetrical warfare that fights not for territory, but for the narrative.
The Juggernaut of State Power: The Theater of Intimidation
President Xi’s military parade is the ultimate expression of a state’s “Energy” (e) in our e + a = c equation. It is a spectacle of pure, overwhelming force, designed to send an unambiguous message of power to both its own citizens and its global rivals. It is a performance of total control, a demonstration that the state’s capacity for violence is absolute and its reach is inescapable. This is the classic playbook of the authoritarian, a projection of invincibility designed to create a “chilling effect,” to convince a population that resistance is not only dangerous but utterly futile.
The Ghost in the Machine: The Art of Asymmetrical Defiance
It is into this carefully constructed theater of intimidation that Qi Hong injected a powerful and unexpected virus of defiance. His act was a masterclass in what we have been discussing: a low-energy, high-agency tactic that created a massive change in the global conversation. The brilliance of his “playbook” lies in his understanding of the modern, digitally-mediated landscape.
- He turned the surveillance state against itself. By planting a second camera to film the police raiding his empty hotel room, he did not just protest against the state; he humiliated it. He transformed the agents of an all-powerful security apparatus into the unwitting, clumsy actors in his work of performance art.
- He prioritized the digital artifact over the physical event. The projection itself was ephemeral, lasting less than an hour. But the image of the projection, and the image of the police being outsmarted, is now a permanent and viral piece of digital evidence that has been seen by tens of millions of people. He understood that the goal is not to win the street corner; it is to win the narrative space.
- He leveraged his powerlessness. As a former migrant worker and electrician, he represented the very “everyman” the regime purports to champion. His solitary act of courage, amplified by the internet, became a powerful symbol that the “CCP’s control isn’t airtight,” as one dissident blogger put it.
The American Adaptation: A Toolkit for “Good Trouble”
This “Qi Hong Playbook” is not just an interesting story from a distant country; it is a new and potent model for civil disobedience that is already being adapted for the American context. In a nation where citizens feel increasingly powerless against a federal government that seems to be operating with a similar level of contempt for dissent, the appeal of such “hit-and-run” tactics is growing.
The principles are the same. A 30-second projection, captured on a dozen cell phones, is infinitely more powerful than a 30-minute picket line. A decentralized “swarm” of simultaneous, small-scale actions is far more difficult for authorities to contain than a single, centralized march. It is a strategy born of necessity, a rational response for a citizenry that feels its traditional avenues for dissent are being ignored or actively suppressed. It is a way to reclaim a sense of agency, to prove that even in the face of overwhelming institutional power, a small group of determined people can still make their voices heard.
The Unwinnable War
The juxtaposition of the parade and the projector reveals a fundamental truth about the nature of power in the 21st century. An authoritarian state can command the streets, it can roll out its tanks, and it can force its soldiers to march in perfect synchronicity. But it is fighting a losing battle against an enemy it cannot see and does not understand: the resilient, creative, and increasingly powerful agency of the individual. The CCP can scrub the video of Qi Hong’s protest from its domestic internet, but it cannot erase the idea. The most important lesson of this week is a simple one: you cannot win a war against a ghost in the machine.
Sidebar: Should You Copy Qi Hong’s Playbook?
The appeal of the Qi Hong playbook is its elegant simplicity. For a few hundred dollars, any individual or small group can acquire the tools—a battery-powered projector and a laptop—to temporarily seize a piece of the public visual landscape. The logistics are easy. The legal challenges, however, are not. Before attempting such an act in the United States, activists must understand the risks. While the First Amendment offers broad protection for political speech, that right is not absolute. The most critical question is: “Whose wall is it?” Projecting onto public property, like a courthouse or city hall, is generally safer legal ground. Projecting onto private property, however, is a legal minefield, opening the door to charges of trespassing and harassment.
The key to adapting this tactic to the American context lies in a clear-eyed calculation of risk and reward. The activists we’ve seen discussing this online have correctly identified that the goal is not a prolonged physical occupation, but a swift, “hit-and-run” action designed to create a viral digital artifact. A 30-second projection, captured on a dozen phones, is more effective and far safer than a 30-minute one. The strategy of a “swarm”—multiple, simultaneous projections across a city—is another brilliant adaptation. It overwhelms law enforcement’s ability to respond and amplifies the message exponentially. This is not a prank; it is a serious act of civil disobedience. But for a growing number of Americans who feel their voices are being ignored, the calculated risk of a minor misdemeanor charge may be a price they are increasingly willing to pay to be heard.
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