New Regulations on Entry and Exit by the Communist Party: The Emerging Digital Berlin Wall

Border inspection at Beijing airport monitors the crowds entering and exiting the country. (Video screenshot)

[People News] In the early hours of August 13, 1961, the East German government constructed a concrete wall overnight in the heart of Berlin, effectively dividing the city in two. The official rationale for this wall was to 'defend socialism,' but its true purpose was to prevent East Germans from 'voting with their feet' and fleeing to the free world. The moment the Berlin Wall was erected, the world came to a clear understanding: if a regime must rely on a wall to keep its citizens, it has already lost the trust of the people.

Fast forward 65 years, and while China has not built a physical wall, it has established an invisible digital iron curtain, substituting traditional sentries and searchlights with big data, facial recognition, and AI risk assessments.

On September 15, 2026, the 'Regulations of the State Council on Exit and Entry Administration' will officially take effect. While this new regulation may appear to be a mere adjustment of administrative procedures, it fundamentally reconfigures every Chinese citizen, every Taiwanese individual holding a Taiwan Compatriot Permit, and even every Chinese person with a U.S. passport into a web that can be tightened at any moment.

If the devil truly governs a corner of this world, its most effective tactic is not overt slaughter, but rather the transformation of the fundamental right to migrate into a privilege that must be earned through 'obedience.'

A single regulation turns entry and exit into a political instrument.

The new immigration regulations explicitly state in Article 4 that any personnel involved in export control or the import and export of technology, who may pose a threat to industrial safety or technological security, can be prohibited from leaving the country at the discretion of the relevant authorities. Article 6 further specifies that in cases related to national security or criminal investigations, the authorities are not required to explain the specific circumstances to the individual.

When these two articles are considered together, they effectively transfer the power to decide 'whether you can leave this country' entirely to a black box that does not need to provide any explanations. Laws are meant to limit government power and establish inviolable boundaries for individuals, businesses, and society; however, in this case, they have become a universal key that the government can use at any time against anyone.

The Manus case: A living example of 'human chips'

Even before the new regulations were officially announced, this logic of restricting exit had already been applied in specific cases. In March of this year, the Financial Times reported that two co-founders of the Chinese AI startup Manus were barred from leaving the country, coinciding with the announcement by Meta in the United States expressing interest in acquiring Manus. This has been widely interpreted as the authorities' concern that core technologies and talent might flow overseas with the acquisition, leading them to intervene and prevent these individuals from leaving.

Taiwanese current affairs commentator Wu Jingyi described the situation, stating that engineers are being viewed by the authorities as 'human chips'; as long as they possess technology and knowledge that could affect the country's technological competitiveness, they themselves become strategic assets that require regulation. The previous mindset of 'focusing solely on technology and avoiding political discussions' is no longer adequate to address this level of control.

On the eve of the new regulations coming into effect, Radio Free Asia reported on September 2 that it had obtained two leaked internal screenshots. One of these is a letter titled 'Consent to Apply for Exit and Entry Documents,' which mandates that personnel within the system must obtain approval from their unit before they can leave the country. Another screenshot reveals that a certain bank has internal rules stating that employees are allowed to travel abroad a maximum of twice a year, and they must submit their passports to the branch within three days of returning.

An insider from the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) informed Radio Free Asia that these regulations have been in place internally for many years. The new rules simply formalize previously concealed grey practices into official legal text, while also adding new restrictions for financial and research personnel, as well as university students. This is largely due to the significant outflow of AI talent and technical data over the past year, which has already affected China's technological development progress.

Entrepreneurs are casting their votes with their feet: a quiet yet significant migration of assets and individuals is underway.

In addition to the Manus case, a recent wave of corporate executive departures clearly illustrates that the entrepreneurial community is reevaluating risks. Xu Yang, the former CEO of Anta, resigned on July 15, citing 'family reasons' and only publicly announced on August 18 that he would be relocating to Los Angeles. By the time he made this announcement, his flight had already been in the air for about an hour after departing from Hong Kong, indicating that he prioritized his safe departure before speaking out.

Zhang Yiming, the founder of ByteDance, who has been living abroad for an extended period, has also been referenced by netizens as a case for discussion. The real concern for many Chinese people is no longer whether they can travel abroad, but whether they will be able to leave again once they return to China.

This collective caution serves as a real-time gauge of public trust in the regime. When an entire class of successful individuals instinctively opts to 'leave the country first, then speak out,' it signals a shared understanding that this border could be unilaterally closed to them at any moment.

Even the most ordinary family outings have not escaped this reality. A person within the system took their child to Hong Kong Disneyland in August, applying for leave a month in advance, but was granted only four days off. The freedom of movement has been fragmented into a scarce quota requiring multiple approvals, reflecting the everyday lives of ordinary people following the implementation of the new regulations.

The invisible risk for Taiwanese people: When will the Taiwan Compatriot Permit be regarded as a Chinese identity card?

Liang Wenjie, Deputy Minister of the Mainland Affairs Council of Taiwan, has clearly stated that Beijing has consistently practiced 'selective enforcement.' While none of the 19 regulations explicitly declare that 'holders of the Taiwan Compatriot Permit are considered Chinese citizens,' this logic of restricting exit can be applied to Taiwanese individuals whenever it benefits the Chinese side.

The official Taiwanese list identifies seven categories of individuals who are likely to be targeted for inspection: political figures, public servants, retired military personnel, judicial officials, teachers, social opinion leaders, and those who have participated in the 'Bluebird Action.' Additionally, the Mainland Affairs Council has outlined five categories of high-risk identities: Taiwanese businesspeople, executives of Taiwanese enterprises, semiconductor and technology professionals, grassroots public servants, and religious figures.

Zhu Fenglian, the spokesperson for the Taiwan Affairs Office of the State Council of the Communist Party of China, publicly denied these claims, labeling them as 'alarmist rhetoric' and asserting that there is no need to worry about traveling to the mainland for tourism or family visits. However, there have been instances in the past where Taiwanese individuals have faced restrictions on leaving China or even received prison sentences. In such cases, the Chinese authorities do not consider whether an individual holds the nationality of the People's Republic of China; they only care if the person is deemed 'a Chinese person by their standards.'

Even foreign passports are not guaranteed safety: Two real cases and a formal warning from the U.S. State Department.

In June of this year, Min Xin, an American scholar born in Myanmar, was invited to a conference in Kunming. Upon his arrival at Yunnan Airport, he was taken into custody and later charged with 'endangering national security.' The U.S. State Department officially recognized in August that he had been 'wrongfully detained.'

Additionally, a circulated letter of complaint detailed the experience of a Chinese businessman who had been a naturalized Japanese citizen for 13 years. He returned to China with his family to visit relatives, but on their return journey, they were stopped at the airport. The family of five was interrogated for seven days, during which he was pressured to renounce his Japanese citizenship, restore his Chinese nationality, and was subjected to an exit ban until 2036.

These types of incidents continue to occur, prompting the U.S. State Department to update its travel warning for China on September 4, categorizing mainland China as a Level 2 'Exercise Increased Caution.' The warning explicitly states that the Chinese Communist authorities may 'arbitrarily enforce local laws' and can impose exit bans without fair and transparent procedures, posing risks of wrongful arrest or detention.

The warning highlights that even Chinese individuals born as American citizens, who do not face issues of dual nationality, have been documented as being denied recognition of their American citizenship and facing restrictions on their ability to leave the country by Chinese authorities. This exemplifies the most perilous aspect of the CCP system: the law is not a constraint on power, but rather a tool that can be easily wielded whenever it is convenient for those in power.

The Mirror of History: From the Household Registration System to the Berlin Wall, How Communist Regimes Treat People as Prisoners

The practice of confining people within national borders is not a novel concept introduced by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP); it is a shared instinct among totalitarian communist regimes. In 1958, the CCP implemented the "Household Registration Regulations," which effectively trapped the entire population within a dual urban-rural household registration system. Farmers were prohibited from entering cities without permission, a system that directly contributed to the abnormal deaths of tens of millions during the Great Leap Forward and the ensuing three-year famine, as individuals were stripped of even the right to escape in search of survival.

During the Cultural Revolution, the "Down to the Countryside Movement" forcibly relocated millions of urban youth to rural areas, turning the freedom of migration into a casualty of political rhetoric. Prior to the reform and opening up, the idea of Chinese citizens traveling abroad was almost unimaginable, with passports being a rare privilege enjoyed by only a select few.

During the same period, East Germany constructed the Berlin Wall and an electric fence around West Berlin. Between 1961 and 1989, at least 140 individuals lost their lives while attempting to escape over the wall. On the night of November 9, 1989, when the Berlin Wall fell, East Germans flocked to the border checkpoint, using their hands and hammers to break down the wall that had stood for twenty-eight years. This powerful moment resonated worldwide, as it demonstrated that any regime sustained by walls will ultimately crumble under the weight of human desire for freedom.

In today's world, very few regimes still use freedom of entry and exit as a tool for governance, with North Korea being the most extreme example. Ordinary citizens find it nearly impossible to leave the country without approval, and defectors face severe consequences if caught, ranging from labor reform to execution. This practice of completely confining people within national borders has long been regarded by the international community as a blatant violation of basic human rights.

Over the past few decades, China has gradually moved away from an era of extreme passport scarcity due to its reform and opening-up policies. However, it is now subtly shifting towards a North Korean-style approach to border control through new administrative regulations and technological means. This is not mere alarmism; it is a reality that can be substantiated with specific regulations and real-life examples.

Numerous human rights organizations and scholars have publicly noted that China is transforming border control into a 'normal governance tool' before and after the new regulations came into effect. In reality, China's borders have become a massive prison affecting millions of people. While this assessment may sound harsh, it accurately reflects the underlying operational logic of the system.

Today, China lacks physical walls but has constructed a more sophisticated, less visible, and harder-to-dismantle digital Berlin Wall using AI, big data, facial recognition, and entry and exit blacklists.

The Iron Curtain logic amid a population crisis: What is the Chinese Communist Party truly afraid of?

Since 2000, China has seen an estimated net loss of 10 million immigrants, predominantly among the young, high-income, and highly educated demographics. Meanwhile, the country experiences around 8 million births annually, while the death toll nears 10 million. This alone results in a net population decrease of 2 million each year. Coupled with the 300,000 to 500,000 individuals who actively choose to emigrate annually, the decline in population structure is happening much more rapidly than many outside observers realize.

This situation raises concerns on two fronts: first, the diminishing capacity for wartime mobilization. As tensions in the Taiwan Strait and the U.S.-China rivalry intensify, the significant outflow of young and middle-aged individuals directly weakens the nation's mobilizable workforce. Second, there is increasing pressure on the fiscal and social security systems. When high-income individuals leave, the tax and social security base narrows, placing a heavier burden on those who remain within the system.

Thus, while the new regulations seem to focus on managing entry and exit order, they essentially represent a long-term strategy to curb population outflow. The approach is not to enhance attractiveness but rather to raise the costs associated with leaving.

The two-thousand-year warning from Confucius and Mencius: harsh governance is more fearsome than a tiger. Since the era of promoting virtue and morality.

In the Analects, Confucius articulates, 'If distant people do not comply, then cultivate virtue and morality to attract them.' This implies that if people from afar are reluctant to affiliate, the strategy should be to draw them in through virtuous governance rather than resorting to coercive measures to keep them.

Confucius famously stated, 'Harsh governance is fiercer than a tiger,' a quote from the 'Book of Rites.' This saying recounts an encounter he had at the foot of Mount Tai with a woman who preferred to see her family fall victim to a fierce tiger rather than leave her homeland, simply because the taxes and oppressive rule in other places are more frightening than a tiger. This story has endured for 2,500 years, highlighting the idea that tyranny is something people instinctively avoid.

In the 'Discourses of the States,' Duke Zhao advises King Li of Zhou with the phrase, 'Preventing the people's voices is more important than preventing floods.' This underscores that if a ruler focuses solely on silencing the populace and restricting their movements without addressing the underlying causes of discontent, the eventual backlash will be even more severe. Laozi also offers a stark reminder in the 'Tao Te Ching': 'If the people do not fear death, how can they be frightened by it?' When the populace no longer fears the worst outcomes, attempts to intimidate them through threats are bound to fail.

These ancient insights from over two millennia ago resonate remarkably with today's new immigration policies: no matter how high the barriers to entry and exit are raised or how stringent the scrutiny becomes, the only thing that can be restricted is a person's physical ability to leave the country, while the desire to escape remains uncontainable.

Additionally, a relevant saying from 'Mencius' states, 'Those who follow the way have many helpers; those who lose the way have few helpers.' A regime that loses the support of its people will find that relying solely on coercive measures to maintain control leads to minimal backing and betrayal from within. This serves as a simple yet profound warning from ancient Chinese political philosophy for future generations.

The precedent of 1989: History has never truly turned a page.

This is not the first instance of Beijing using immigration control as a political tool. Following the June Fourth Incident in 1989, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) imposed strict restrictions on exit approvals. Many intellectuals and students who participated in the pro-democracy movement or voiced dissent against the government had their passports confiscated, and their applications to leave the country were delayed indefinitely—sometimes for several years, or even permanently barred from exiting.

After the Anti-Rightist Movement in 1957, a significant number of intellectuals labeled as 'rightists' not only lost their political rights but also faced stringent surveillance over their freedom of movement, visiting family, and communication. This administrative method of punishing dissenters has been ingrained in the CCP's governance practices for a long time.

The new immigration regulations today are simply an upgrade of the manual approval process that involved multiple stamps from 37 years ago, now transformed into AI-driven risk control scoring and big data joint prevention and control. While the tools have evolved, the fundamental nature of the system remains unchanged.

When technology becomes a new form of oppression

It is important to recognize that the control mechanisms in place now are more sophisticated than ever before. Previously, restricting a person's ability to exit relied on grassroots units confiscating passports or stopping individuals at border checkpoints based on a list, which was inefficient and susceptible to loopholes.

Today’s system utilizes facial recognition, mobile phone location tracking, consumption records, social relationship mapping, and even the marital and employment status of relatives can be accessed and verified in real time.

Chinese nationals residing long-term in the United States are being required to engage in video calls and share their real-time locations. Local public security authorities have even reached out directly to their parents in China to verify details about their marriages and their exit from the country. This situation transcends traditional border management, evolving into a comprehensive cross-border surveillance system that extends its influence into what is considered 'overseas.' When the sophistication of technology exceeds the limits of human decency, the nature of the barrier shifts from concrete to code, yet the fundamental nature of confinement remains unchanged.

The Resonance of Western Philosophy: Arendt's Notion of the 'Superfluous' in Totalitarianism

Political philosopher Hannah Arendt, in her examination of Nazi and Stalinist totalitarian regimes, offered a crucial insight: the ultimate aim of totalitarianism is not merely to enslave individuals, but to make them 'superfluous.' This entails stripping individuals of their ability to autonomously determine their destinies, migrate, or express their opinions, reducing living beings to mere files that can be arbitrarily numbered, censored, released, or intercepted.

Arendt emphasized that the most chilling aspect of totalitarian regimes often lies not in any specific act of violence, but in the creation of a comprehensive system that enables ordinary officials to partake in the deprivation of others' freedoms simply by 'acting in accordance with the law' or 'approving according to regulations,' all without experiencing any moral remorse. This phenomenon is what she termed 'the banality of evil.'

Today, a clerk at a county-level public security bureau can decide whether an individual will ever see their parents abroad again by simply pressing an approval button in the system. This scenario epitomizes E Lan's theory in the 21st century, where machines and bureaucratic systems replace personal moral judgment, rendering evil both efficient and routine.

Conclusion: The devil seeks to confine the soul, not to grant freedom to the body.

If we are honest with ourselves, we will realize that the essence of this immigration control reflects the same underlying logic in various forms: the unjust restriction of Manus's founder from leaving, the potential for Taiwanese individuals to be 'selectively identified' as Chinese citizens at any moment, and the detention of American citizens at Chinese airports without cause.

The core of this logic is not about protecting national security; rather, it aims to ensure that everyone within the system lives in a constant state of fear, fearing that their freedom could be revoked at any moment. It is this fear that compels individuals to comply, refrain from resistance, and even assist the regime in persecuting others around them.

The Berlin Wall confined East Germans for 28 years with its reinforced concrete, but it was ultimately broken down by the human desire for freedom. Today, this digital iron curtain, woven from algorithms and big data, may appear intangible, yet it cannot suppress the yearning for freedom. People naturally strive to rise, just as water flows downward. If a country truly has hope, its talent will return voluntarily from all over the world, rather than needing to rely on exit restrictions to keep people from leaving.

This is why the real question that Beijing should ask itself is not how to prevent people from leaving, but why an increasing number of individuals are willing to take risks to escape. 2,500 years ago, the woman at the foot of Mount Tai, who refused to leave even at the cost of her life, taught us that oppressive governance is more frightening than a fierce tiger. Today, 2,500 years later, those Chinese individuals who would rather forgo returning home to stay abroad are answering the same question in the same way. The devil is never afraid of your hatred; it only fears that you no longer fear it, and perhaps that day is gradually approaching.

From the Berlin Wall to the digital Iron Curtain, and from the household registration system established in 1958 to the entry and exit blacklist set for 2026, the ruling strategies of the Chinese Communist Party (Zhongguo Gongchandang) have persisted for nearly 70 years, evolving through countless forms while maintaining a consistent core logic: transforming the freedom of the people into a privilege that can be revoked at any moment. This compels every individual to ask themselves before leaving the country, 'If I go out this time, will I be able to return? If I return this time, will I be able to go out again?' 

When a regime must depend on such questions to uphold a facade of stability, it implicitly acknowledges that its legitimacy cannot withstand the scrutiny of the people's votes with their feet. Prior to the fall of the Berlin Wall, East Germany's secret police, the Stasi, created the world's most extensive informant network, with one in every 6.5 citizens providing intelligence to the regime. Ultimately, this system collapsed overnight in 1989, as the weight of public sentiment is something no surveillance system can indefinitely suppress. 

The new entry and exit regulations in China, along with big data joint prevention and control and AI risk scoring, represent a digital upgrade of the Stasi informant system, merely functioning in a colder and less visible manner. History has consistently shown that any regime that relies on fear and containment to maintain control will inevitably face the day when the wall it constructed is toppled by the very hearts of the people. 

(Excerpt from Dajiyuan)
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