Imagine a world where the news you consume isn’t just news, but a carefully sculpted narrative, designed to make you think a certain way. This isn’t a dystopian novel; it’s a reality in many places, and the story of China’s influence in Slovakia’s media landscape offers a fascinating, albeit concerning, peek into how this can unfold. At the heart of this tale is the Slovak magazine Extra Plus, a publication with a history of promoting populist agendas, now seemingly becoming a strong echo chamber for Chinese state-sponsored perspectives.
It all begins with a rather unsettling endorsement from Štefan Nižňanský, a former director of Slovak Television (STV). After a trip to China, where he apparently luxuriated in a hotel room watching the state-run CCTV, he returned to Slovakia singing its praises. He described CCTV as free of “propaganda,” a claim that raises more than an eyebrow, especially considering that Chinese state media is directly controlled by the Chinese Communist Party’s propaganda arm, whose sole purpose is to shape public opinion in line with party policy. Nižňanský even went so far as to suggest that Slovak and Czech media should “learn what objective and independent reporting should look like” from their Chinese counterparts. His admiration for CCTV’s presenters, who he felt “stick strictly to the facts” without personal commentary, further solidifies his seemingly uncritical view. The irony, of course, is that a media outlet entirely subservient to a single political party can never truly be called objective or independent. The silence from Extra Plus regarding who funded Nižňanský’s “luxury” trip to China only adds to the intrigue, hinting at a potential quid pro quo that remains unconfirmed but widely speculated.
Extra Plus’s relationship with China goes deeper than just Nižňanský’s glowing review. The magazine’s editor-in-chief, Lenka Mayerová, conducted an interview with Chinese Ambassador Cai Ge that reads less like an objective journalistic endeavor and more like a series of soft, leading questions designed to allow the ambassador to present China in the most favorable light possible. Imagine a journalist asking, “The PRC is trying to be a mediator… Ukraine and the West reject all proposals for peace… How do you expect the situation to develop?” or “The West is trying to impose liberalism… How are you managing to protect morality and preserve traditional Chinese values?” These aren’t critical inquiries; they are open invitations for the ambassador to criticize the West and highlight China’s perceived virtues. The ambassador is not only given free rein to express his views but is also granted significant space in the magazine, even publishing his own articles, which enthusiastically promote China’s vision of “global governance” and a “new and better model” for the world. This preferential treatment, coupled with the editor-in-chief’s evasiveness about any “paid partnership” with the Chinese embassy, strongly suggests a cozy, symbiotic relationship.
The context of Extra Plus itself is crucial to understanding why it’s such fertile ground for Chinese messaging. The magazine is notorious for its nostalgic view of Slovakia’s past under former Prime Minister Vladimír Mečiar and has a track record of actively campaigning for political figures aligned with its conservative, often anti-Western, leanings. Before major elections, it freely distributed issues across Slovakia, a feat that, given its meager reported profits, raises serious questions about its funding sources. The editor-in-chief’s past political affiliations with nationalist and communist parties further illuminate the ideological compatibility that makes Extra Plus an attractive partner for China’s influence operations. This isn’t just about spreading information; it’s about amplifying a worldview that challenges dominant Western narratives, a narrative that China is eager to promote. As experts like Matej Šimalčík from the Central European Institute of Asian Studies point out, China actively seeks to shape its image by engaging with media, inviting journalists on paid trips for positive coverage, and collaborating with influencers. It’s a multi-faceted approach, and disinformation outlets, due to their weaker fact-checking processes and shared values, are often more susceptible to uncritically adopting Chinese content.
The story goes beyond Extra Plus, revealing a broader pattern of Chinese influence in Slovakia. Other lesser-known media outlets like Nové slovo and Hlavný denník have also published articles and commentaries from Chinese officials, often presented to readers without the critical scrutiny one would expect from independent journalism. When questioned about these collaborations, editors offer vague answers about “friendly collaboration” and even accuse inquiring journalists of “Gestapo-like practices,” deflecting from the fundamental issue of transparency and editorial independence. Even more established publications haven’t been immune to this trend. The business weekly Trend, for example, published an “interview” with the Chinese ambassador that was, in fact, entirely provided by the Chinese side, essentially functioning as a Chinese press release. The magazine’s eventual decision to stop publishing political commentary due to public reaction suggests a recognition of the problematic nature of such practices, but it highlights how easily even mainstream outlets can be drawn into disseminating, perhaps unwittingly, state-sponsored content. The 2024 special China-focused supplement, produced in collaboration with the Chinese Embassy, serves as another example of this kind of soft influence.
The deeper concern lies in the potential for Chinese state agencies to actively pay media outlets to publish their content. CCTV+, China’s state-run news agency, has been offering Slovak media free video content and even “commercial opportunities” to generate revenue by distributing “recommended” news. This is a highly unusual model; typically, media outlets pay news agencies for content, not the other way around. As Šimalčík wisely cautions, while some access to Chinese news might be necessary, reproducing such content requires extreme caution to avoid spreading propaganda. This “reverse payment” model is particularly alluring to disinformation outlets, effectively allowing China to finance them while simultaneously promoting its agenda. What makes this all the more effective in Slovakia is the current political climate. Ambassador Cai Ge’s fluency in Slovak, a stark contrast to his predecessor, allows him to engage more directly and effectively with various Slovak stakeholders. This, combined with the current government’s friendly stance towards China, creates an environment where challenging Chinese narratives or rejecting collaborations can be difficult, even for non-governmental actors. This intricate web of relationships, financial incentives, and shared ideological leanings paints a clear picture of a concerted effort by China to shape perceptions and narratives within Slovakia, a strategy that the Slovak intelligence agency has recognized as intertwined with Chinese intelligence activities. It’s a reminder that in our increasingly interconnected world, the battle for truth and objective information is fought not just on battlefields, but in the pages of magazines and on the screens of our devices.