Chinese subtitle groups and flexible accumulation in the age of online viewing
Kelly Hu
An article published in June 2014 by Taiwan’s Wealth Magazine, with the sensational title “China takes over your eyes: Predicting the demise of the TV industry,” describes how Chinese video websites have displaced the role of TV and become the most important and influential platform for everyday viewing in China and Taiwan (Huang 2014). According to this report, one of the main advantages of Chinese video websites is their almost immediate updating of numerous recent programs from the United States, Japan, and Korea with Chinese subtitles. (The websites were also recognized for offering an extensive variety of Chinese language programs made in China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong.) The article notes that the rate at which TVs are switched on in Beijing has decreased to 30 percent of its former level. From a Taiwanese standpoint, the writer argues that despite the long-term, serious problems of over-competition, low-ratings, and low-cost production in the Taiwanese TV industry, it is Chinese video websites that have threatened the industry’s survival.
The Taiwanese magazine report is significant in that it identifies online viewing as the dominant format among audiences seeking audio-visual resources on the Internet, not only in mainland China, but also in Taiwan and Hong Kong, where Chinese video websites have a strong presence. The convenient and mostly free services provided by Chinese video websites satisfy the needs of online Chinese-speaking audiences and shifts their viewing habits from the TV to the computer and the Internet. However, the success of the Chinese online video sites should be understood in the context of their complicated and ambivalent relationship with Chinese subtitle groups, which has evolved significantly over the last fifteen years.
What are Chinese subtitle groups? They are online communities comprised mainly of young members of the Chinese Internet generation who work on digitized Chinese translations—and other related subtitle work—of foreign audio-visual programs. Chinese subtitle groups emerged as early as 2001, gradually becoming a popular cultural phenomenon with the advent of peer-to-peer (P2P) sharing technologies such as BitTorrent, which had become a prevalent fixture on the Internet by 2004. Each group has its own niche, such as “American TV dramas,” “Japanese TV dramas,” “Korean variety TV shows,” “Thai TV dramas,” etc., usually categorized by nationality, the media form, and the genre. Bypassing copyright laws, the groups obtain unauthorized programs and volunteer to produce Chinese subtitles without any profit-making intention. High-quality subtitled versions of programs are made available in online forums as free downloads.
To understand the rise of Chinese subtitle groups, it is necessary to consider the historical position of video piracy, changes in the consumption of various digital technologies, and Chinese transnationalism. Beginning in the mid-1990s, a technological format popularly known as VCD (Video CD) gradually became the most widely used format among Chinese communities around the world. VCD was invented by Sony in 1993, before the launch of DVDs. The format was eventually abandoned in the West, but it was widely adopted in Asia (Hu 2004). Light, cheap, and easily copied, VCDs quickly became the technology used for pirating movies and TV programs of all kinds. Between the mid-1990s and 2004, VCDs were one of the main ways Chinese communities accessed foreign audio-visual programs. In particular, the penetration into Asia of Japanese TV dramas in the 1990s, part of the Japanese Wave of popular culture, was mediated through the market for Chinese-made pirated VCDs.
“Chinese transnationalism” describes “the potential of wild and dangerously innovative powers associated with Chinese diasporic mobility,” as incorporated into “the logic of flexible capitalism itself” (Ong and Nonini 1997, 20). From the mid-1990s to 2004, the pirate economy was highly dependent on an underground network of ethnic Chinese and their flexible business strategies, such as Internet shopping, mobile vendors in night markets and street corners, and shops in Chinatowns in Western countries. Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Malaysia were the three main producers of pirated VCDs with Chinese subtitles, and their products had global distribution (Hu 2005). Later, as VCDs became an outdated technology, China emerged as a dominant source of pirated DVDs.
Since the mid-1990s, and especially after 2000, mainland China has caught up with the latest digital technologies, and the Internet has opened up connections between mainland Chinese and the global entertainment market. The combination of the Internet and the yearning of young Chinese for non-local products nurtured the birth of online subtitle groups. In the 1990s, highly productive Chinese subtitle groups with the ambitious aim of providing this free service to online viewers began to surpass the pirated VCD businesses in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Malaysia. As viewing modes and technological consumption patterns changed with the evolution of the Internet, pirated VCDs and DVDs began to be seen as “heavy,” too expensive and time-consuming to produce. In comparison, free Internet downloads and online viewing give online audiences instant and autonomous access from their homes, obviating the need to venture outdoors or accumulate tangible objects. In 2006, an article in the New York Times reporting inside information about groups working on the Chinese subtitles of American TV dramas such as Prison Break and Sex and the City attracted global attention and created concern within the U.S. government (French 2006). The report did not highlight the sensitivity of copyright issues in the United States or offer a solution to the “problem” of unauthorized subtitle production. Instead, it focused on the way in which the emergence of subtitle groups, in relation to online fandom, should be understood in the context of Chinese young people’s thirst for the authenticity of foreign popular culture, a space free from state censorship. With the sudden boom in the online video industry since 2005, many subtitle groups began making use of video websites with unauthorized content to enhance the visibility of their work, though still without receiving any monetary reward. At that time, both subtitle groups and video websites were in the same unregulated situation. However, in 2008, as part of its efforts to regulate the Internet, the Chinese government started requiring online video websites to acquire licenses issued by the State Administration of Radio, Film, and Television. In 2009, websites offering download links without legal licenses, including some large BitTorrent forums, were shut down or downsized. In recent years, the major video websites have purified their image and been given the imprimatur of legality by purchasing the broadcast rights to copyrighted programs, both locally made and foreign. As will be discussed in later sections, these video websites have invited subtitle groups to produce Chinese subtitles for legitimately broadcast foreign programs.
It has been argued that Chinese subtitle groups’ work ethic shows an interesting mix of neoliberalism and altruism (Hu 2012). The historical development of Chinese video websites has also been shaped by competition and cooperation between video websites and subtitle groups during different periods (Hu 2014). This chapter builds on these previous studies, exploring the new dynamics of Chinese subtitle groups since 2010. The following sections of this chapter will discuss the way in which Chinese subtitle groups assume the role of invisible heroes who demonstrate their commitment through their flexible accumulation of fan labor and their use of their organization’s collective power. It is discussed how some major subtitle groups crossed over from being underground to being official, not only by maintaining their own forums, but also through plugging into the legitimate cultural economy by formally cooperating with foreign TV companies and local video websites. How are state regulation, copyright enforcement, and the new market mechanisms of online viewing in China reshaping subtitle groups and video websites? Why do Chinese subtitle groups have strong ambitions to conquer the online world, apart from their main motivations of fan affection and the spirit of volunteering? What kind of mental liberation is embedded in the subtitle movement through the coparticipation of both subtitle groups and Chinese online audiences?
Since the emergence of Chinese subtitle groups around the beginning of the twenty-first century, most of the larger groups have survived and grown into mature organizations with a steady output. They are ardent fans who love foreign programs and are dedicated to subtitle production and online circulation. The affection of these “fansubbers” is difficult to measure, but it is clearly deep, as seen in their willingness to continue their work even when a program has already been subtitled by others. (It is not unusual for different subtitle groups to create subtitles for the same program, so that there are various versions available online.) Chinese subtitle groups demonstrate a kind of “productivity and participation” through their absolute absorption and commitment in the work (Fiske 1992, 37).
In Henry Jenkins’ interview with Zheng Xiqing, a Chinese student who is also a fansubber pursuing a Ph.D. in the United States, Zheng responds to a question about why fans in China see themselves as belonging to an “elite group,” while in some parts of the world fan culture is not considered elite due to “the low cultural status of materials” it embraces (Jenkins 2013). She says that the specific history of Chinese fan culture was at first intimately connected with an elite image because it was well-educated university students who, since the end of the twentieth century, took the initiative to export, absorb, and spread foreign popular culture. As a result of this tradition in the Chinese fan culture, the majority of subtitle group members are “urbanites, college students, and white collar [workers]” in their 20s and 30s (Hu 2012).
In fact, fansubbers are no ordinary fans, as they are required to perform excellent and disciplined work with great efficiency. Those who are interested in working for subtitle groups must have good language ability, regularly scheduled work times, basic technology skills, and a well-equipped computer with fast Internet access. For example, as part of the online recruitment process for YYeTs, one of the largest subtitle groups, applicants are asked to do some translation work provided by the subtitle group to demonstrate their competency in translation (YYeTs.com 2014). After passing that test, they need to attend internal training and undergo further evaluation for two weeks to one month before being allowed to volunteer to translate.
In addition, YYeTs prefers those who schedule their work time well and are capable of “self-learning, active exploration, and independent problem solving” (YYeTs.com 2014). It also notes that it welcomes those who are good at emotional management while under pressure and who do not feel the need to fight back, as they may experience a lot of hostile attacks from those outside the group, especially when their subtitles attract audiences with diverse opinions. Questions are directed at potential candidates, such as whether they have the minimum required Internet connection speed and what online media players they use. To enhance their effectiveness and increase their popularity, subtitle groups emphasize the flexible accumulation of talented workers who are expected to be rational and useful.
From a broader perspective, the subtitle groups develop passionate fans into disciplined workers; individual effort is mobilized for the goal of collective power and achievement. Through such a process, Chinese subtitle groups fully maximize the advantages of capital accumulation in the following ways. First, the cultural capital of the valuable Chinese language subtitles is transformed into the economic capital in a manner that is well in tune with current monetization trends in online entertainment. Second, with high quality translations, regular schedules, and a rapid release speed, famous subtitle groups establish the symbolic capital of a good reputation. Third, the mobilization of fans by networking with potential talent and online audiences all over the nation and overseas through Internet technology has enabled the accumulation of social capital. Next, I will discuss the ways in which the power of online self-branding is exercised by subtitle groups, enabling them to step into the formal cultural economy.
David Harvey proposed the notion of “flexible accumulation,” describing the way in which, since the 1970s, new modes of capitalism on a global scale function differently from Fordist industrial mass production. Flexible accumulation is characterized as follows:
It rests on flexibility with respect to labor processes, labor markets, products, and patterns of consumption. It is characterized by the emergence of entirely new sectors of production … and, above all, greatly intensified rates of commercial, technological, and organizational innovation.
(Harvey 1992, 147)
The ways in which Chinese subtitle groups operate are often based on flexible accumulation: they mobilize fan labor and carve out new spaces of consumption, which are then made available to online audiences; they engage in collaborative partnerships with big video websites; and they build intimate links with other elements of the Internet technology economy, such as online forums, media players, download managers, P2P software, and cloud storage. The desire to achieve the goals of quick release and wide circulation of completed subtitled products overlaps with the market logic of online video, which also seeks to reach wider audiences. According to Mylonas, “new capitalism relies on innovation of P2P production, the reflexivity of P2P networks for distribution [and] cooperative work” (Mylonas 2011). It is useful to understand how Chinese subtitle groups involved with P2P sharing and production invent their own ways of flexible accumulation, which appear to be as daunting as those required for running a business, but without the capitalist market imperative to generate revenue. In the following, I discuss how several large subtitle groups use flexible accumulation, while also being strongly influenced by the local online viewing economy and the state’s surveillance policies.
Chinese subtitle groups have been deeply involved in the informal cultural economy since their birth. The groups often add a standard statement to their subtitles saying, “Subtitles are not made to earn money, but simply for the purpose of cultural exchange. Please delete this within 24 hours after downloading and support the copyrighted version.” Even though it is apparent that subtitle groups are not profit seeking, they are still trapped in the grey zone of copyright infringement. The Chinese government’s ruthless attack on BitTorrent forums, as mentioned earlier in relation to subtitle groups and unlicensed websites, has forced both subtitle groups and video websites to change. Major Chinese video websites have begun to spend large sums of money to acquire copyrighted foreign programs. As these video websites have had a long-term secret cooperation with subtitle groups in the circulation of unauthorized programs, they have also started to seek formal support from experienced groups. This is also a strategy for video websites to transform the subtitle groups from a competitive counterpart into a team member, and to strengthen the market of copyrighted material with Chinese subtitles.
The news of official cooperation between video websites and subtitle groups was highly publicized when one of the most popular Korean TV dramas, My Love from the Star, starring Gianna Jun and Soo-Hyun Kim, overwhelmed China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong in late 2013 and early 2014. News reports indicated that one of the leading video websites, iQIYI, had bought the online broadcasting rights of My Love from the Star and was working with TSKS, the leading Chinese subtitle group specializing in Korean TV drama (Chen 2014). Due to the popularity of this drama, it is estimated that iQIYI received more than 2.5 billion hits by mid-May of 2014. iQIYI had initiated a nearly simultaneous broadcast with Korean TV station SBS, and promoted that fact. In November 2010, TSKS announced that it had acquired the legal right to produce the Internet versions of Chinese subtitled TV dramas and variety shows. SBS noted the excellent performance of TSKS and decided to directly incorporate TSKS into its authorized distribution system in order to better penetrate the Chinese market (Chen 2014). SBS’s strategy turned a potentially hostile situation into a positive collaboration.
TSKS does not submit to iQIYI alone: it is allowed to distribute the subtitled versions of shows via TSKS’s online forum after their premiere on iQIYI. SBS’s aim is to penetrate the Chinese market, which similarly resonates with TSKS’s ambition to become the top player in Chinese subtitle production for Korean TV programs. In addition to cooperating with video websites, TSKS has close connections with online fan forums dedicated to various Korean stars, idol groups, and TV dramas. TSKS and other subtitle groups sometimes work with these forums to promote so-called “joint releases,” that is, subtitles produced, distributed, and circulated by members of one or more subtitle groups working together with forum members.
In 2012, I interviewed XB, a Taiwanese student who studied in Korea and had experience creating subtitles for a Chinese subtitle group for Korean TV programs. XB shared information about TSKS, indicating that there had been some organizational and interpersonal disputes inside the group for several years. In XB’s view, joint releases help to stabilize the organization and sustain the regular release of their subtitles. First, the joint releases provide an opportunity to recruit members from fan forums to work on Korean language translation. Fans are potentially effective labor, willing to engage in work with selfless devotion, even though not all fan forums offer assistance in translation. TSKS still plays the role of leader in joint releases because of its status as a professional subtitle group. Second, it has become a rule for the co-opted fan forums to publicly announce that they are not allowed to promote subtitles from TSKS’s competitors. This also adds to TSKS’s reputation, which attracts not only more online viewers, but also fresh translation talent. The purpose of the joint release is to strengthen the collective power of the team in its mobilization of fan labor and the establishment of TSKS’s brand image. Winning public recognition for their speed of release and translation quality is important, as fansubs “depend highly on their reputation to thrive in fandom” (Jenkins 2013).
XB indicated that the flow of talent in and out of TSKS is quite fluid. She said, “after all, there are no formal contracts between fansubbers and TSKS.” The constantly changing and unsteady labor force at TSKS is not unusual among subtitle groups. A 2014 news story about American TV drama subtitle groups reports that on average the group of actively contributing fansubbers changes approximately every three to five months (Tencent Entertainment 2014). It appears that large subtitle groups do not rely on fansubbers’ long-term commitment to the group. Instead, their strategy depends on the flexible accumulation of contingent labor by broadly networking with multiple online flows of fans, which are viewed as assets that can reduce the risk inherent in an uncertain labor market. What makes major Chinese subtitle groups function well is their well-developed ability to manage this kind of organization.
Lan-Bi-Tou is one of the fansubbers for Love from the Star at TSKS. Having been involved in making Chinese subtitles at TSKS for six years, she admitted that working with iQIYI caused her stress, as she worried about the quality of the Chinese subtitles while working under extreme time pressure (Dong 2014). TSKS was contractually required to finish the subtitles three hours after each episode was released in Korea. For a video website like iQIYI, every minute is precious as the click counts of online viewers determines the amount of money to be earned from advertisers. This commodification of time is profit-seeking for the commercial video website, while for a subtitle group it is a way of branding itself and raising its profile. For each episode of Love from the Star, the average income for each fansubber was around RMB16, about US$2.50 (Zhao 2014). Outsiders might think that TSKS makes huge profits, but this is not the case. Fansubbers see themselves “at the very low end of the production chain” who work only for “interest and a sense of achievement” (Zhu 2014). This positioning allows SBS to regard TSKS, despite its quickness and competence, as a source of cheap labor, especially in comparison to its own local translation team, which is slower and charges more (Chen 2014). SBS exploits this global division of labor, which is facilitated by Chinese fans who volunteer with TSKS to do effective, underpaid work.
In fact, it is not only TSKS but also other top subtitle groups such as YYeTs and YTET that have developed partnerships with video websites. Those two groups specialize in American TV dramas and movies, and are eager to work with major video sites like Sohu and Youku, which are keen on obtaining copyrighted American TV dramas. According to a TSKS public statement, the group wants “to march forward on a legal path. Without legality, it’s hard to survive … our little wish is to thrive and keep sharing wonderful Korean audio-visual content with everyone” (TSKS 2010). The group first secured its primary status among other subtitle groups without seeking any kind of official authorization, which was a strategy designed to protect itself from harassment by the government and possible lawsuits from copyright owners. Later, when local video websites were forced to acquire broadcast rights, TSKS and other subtitle groups changed their strategy accordingly.
TSKS has urged other subtitle groups to stop the “illegal” production of SBS TV programs. This exclusionary reaction aims to safeguard and consolidate TSKS’s current authority. Chen Yi, a fansubber with seven years’ experience with YTET, has another viewpoint (Jin 2014). He thinks it is no longer necessary to compete with other subtitle groups before being partially incorporated into the official cultural economy. He feels that the burden of copyright infringement has been removed and the rivalry among various groups to be the first to release its subtitles is also a thing of the past. To him, this means that the quality of the translations can be improved. In a way, a subtitle group choosing to stand by the formal cultural economy is using practical considerations to enable its own survival in the face of fierce competition and challenges from video websites, other subtitle groups, regulation by the Chinese state, and copyright pressure.
Even though some of the subtitle groups have allowed themselves to be absorbed into the formal cultural economy in order to survive and extend their influence, they have not given up trying to create alternative spaces of their own. There is always an ambiguous zone that subtitle groups occupy and determining whether that space belongs to the official cultural economy is difficult. First, both foreign copyright owners and video websites that have bought online broadcast rights hold laissez-faire attitudes towards subtitle groups. In the case of YTET, the contract agreements require the group to respect the release schedules of the video websites, which precludes it from competing for the honor of having the first release (Jin 2014). However, at a certain time after the official online premiere, YTET is allowed to post links to the subtitled programs (which by then have been emblazoned with the YTET logo) for free download on its forum. The same condition applies to TSKS. Online audiences benefit from this arrangement as they can easily access multiple Chinese subtitled versions of the programs.
Although subtitle groups cannot afford the infrastructure required to support a major video website, they have stayed on top of recent trends in the way video is consumed in order to better meet the needs of their online audiences. Most of their online forums have shifted from being P2P download sites to supporting multiple platforms that accommodate different streaming and download options. Cloud computing technology, which allows for convenient online storage, cross-device media access, and online streaming, is particularly popular among most subtitle groups.
No matter it’s a download or online viewing, all the subtitled programs available to you are produced by us. Doing a job with good quality is our most urgent mission.
(Jin 2014)
So spoke Chen Yi from YTET, who revealed how subtitle groups have successfully penetrated the Chinese-language Internet with their omnipresent Chinese subtitles, authorized or not. Chen’s tone seems full of expert pride, exhibiting a fansubber’s faith in teamwork and enthusiasm for providing an excellent volunteer service. Fansubbers typically treat their work with an entrepreneurial spirit, emphasizing the quality and efficiency of their job performance, which conforms to the wider context of a neoliberal China on the rise in the global economy. What makes the phenomenon of Chinese subtitle groups interesting is that they developed not as amateur organizations subordinate to official social systems, as Fiske emphasizes, but that they have established a professionalism that is productive and competent enough to be incorporated into the formal cultural economy (Fiske 1992). Moreover, fansubbing is not only a form of consumerism but also the expression of a burning ambition. It requires an adaptable attitude, a competitive and expansionist mentality, and a penchant for boundary breaking.
Sun Ge, a Chinese scholar specializing in the comparative study of the history of Chinese and Japanese thought, notes that mainland Chinese lack the notion of “nationalism,” when nationalism is understood as feeling the existence of a border (Sun 2001, 18). Sun proposes that, because of its accumulated history, geography, and politics, China’s self-image is one of a big center. She states that because China sees itself in this light, it is not especially aware of “Asia” as a conceptual space. In comparison, countries that identify themselves as being on the periphery of Asia are more likely to use Asia as a framework from which to consider various issues (Sun 2001, 25). It is not my intention to be essentialist and simply equate Chinese subtitle groups with “China.” However, it may be significant to relate Sun’s research on China with the practices of Chinese subtitle groups, which are eager to connect with various kinds of foreign popular cultural flows, and which do so without any particular regard for borders. They turn the presumed roles of imitative receivers to their advantage, becoming powerful transformers, producers, and distributors who dominate the circulation of Chinese subtitles throughout Chinese-speaking societies. Members of Chinese subtitle groups are not merely “marginal others” who engage in fandom for leisure and escape. Chinese subtitle groups operate as if they were a “powerful center,” applying flexible accumulation in collecting outstanding cultural labor, switching between the formal and informal online cultural economies, and mediating the convergence of Internet technologies and the global flow of popular culture. Most importantly, subtitle groups have come to play an indispensable role in the daily lives of Chinese-speaking online audiences around the world.
On November 22, 2014, Shooter, a fifteen-year-old online search engine and website offering links to free downloads of subtitled files, was unexpectedly shut down. On the same day, YYeTs announced that it had to close temporarily. A photograph that was circulated online indicated that government authorities confiscated and sealed YYeTs’s servers. This news caused a great deal of grief among Chinese fans. It has been reported that the closures were related to anti-piracy pressure from the Motion Picture Association of America (Custer 2014). However, most critics and netizens suspected that the real source of the closures was China’s State Administration of Press, Publication, Radio, Film and Television, which used piracy as an excuse to achieve its real aim: preventing the influence of uncensored Western entertainment, which was being facilitated by the easy accessibility of online Chinese subtitles (Lin 2014). YYeTs later attempted to relocate its operation to South Korea and Singapore, but those efforts eventually failed. YYeTs released a formal and mournful online good-bye on December 20, 2014. It stated that “an era that needs us is gone. There is a better channel displacing us … Perhaps we’ll keep serving the copyrighted [program] business with translations, or offer an online discussion community for everyone” (YYeTs on Weibo 2014).
YYeTs’s parting words partly echo the research findings of this study. First, producing Chinese subtitles for the official cultural economy has gradually become one of the main options for Chinese subtitle groups, as discussed earlier. For example, one translator who used to work at YYeTs has found work with two major video websites, Sohu and Letv, and has become a member of “the regular army,” the informal name for those creating official Chinese subtitles for copyrighted American TV dramas (Li 2014). Also relevant is the Chinese government’s behind-the-scenes permanent political control of its people and the Internet, here in the form of an unpredicted crackdown. Finally, Chinese subtitle groups cannot survive without self- transformation, and not only because of the Chinese authorities’ surveillance and threats, but because historical changes in the culture and technology of the Internet requires them to adjust to new trends in online viewing. They cannot ignore major Chinese video websites who have “purified” themselves by aligning with the capitalist copyright system and submitting to Chinese censorship. However, unlike the commercialized video websites, subtitle groups can never be entirely tamed.
Yang Guobin, a well-known scholar of China’s Internet, responded to the closure of YYeTs and Shooter by suggesting that online subtitle groups should be praised for “inaugurating a most important ‘mental emancipation’ movement” (Olesen 2014). For many online audiences, fansubs are made by “people of our own community,” unlike the officially sanctioned subtitles offered by the TV and film industries (Jenkins 2013). The fansub culture, mainly promoted by young people, exemplifies the desire of Chinese urban youth culture to find alternative spaces for expressive individualism in a highly regulated political climate that does not encourage direct confrontation with the government (Liu 2013, 68, 194–195). The uninhibited energy of self-expression in subtitle production is not simply a form of sociable comradeship among the inner circles of fan communities, but also a commitment to reach the broader population of online audiences who identify greatly with the autonomy found in searching for and viewing programs online.
“When one YYeTs falls down, thousands of YYeTs will stand up,” Chinese blogger Yang Shiyang notes, in words intended to boost morale among online audiences supporting YYeTs and Chinese subtitle groups in general (Yang 2014). Yang criticizes the Chinese government for remaining in the “pre-Internet age,” which insists on control and copyright constraints. He reveals himself as a new generation of Chinese netizen, a member of the participatory online audience that experiments together on the Internet, creating subtitles with a sense of freedom and rebellion. In my reading, Yang implies that the official crackdown on the subtitle websites challenges not merely a few subtitle groups, but also the millions of online audience members who stand by these groups. That is, the collective strength of netizens cannot be underestimated; they share the Internet’s characteristics of affection, freedom, spontaneity, and mobility.
The Chinese state’s decision to shut down the sites could be futile in the long run. After the demise of YYeTs and Shooter, a new strategy for online audiences to access Chinese subtitled content emerged. Viewers began to use Weibo (a microblog) and WeChat (a messaging communication platform) to look for a “resource God,” someone who aggregates and distributes the shows (Li 2014). In fact, YYeTs itself seems to be still alive in a mysterious way. Though the group’s once popular website no longer exists, echoes of the group’s activities can be seen in the blogs and microblogs of fans who are secretively connected with YYeTs fansubbers. It appears that the decentralized nature of the Internet will always foster new forms of grassroots networks and reinventions and thereby continue the pioneering work begun by subtitle groups, even though some of them have now faded into history.
As Internet-enabled producers and consumers in the age of digitized modernity, Chinese subtitle groups are especially interesting research subjects. The specificity of Chinese subtitle groups may attract researchers who are interested in fan studies and fansub culture. There have been studies of fansubs in the United States and Italy, but there are few comparative studies of the fansubbing phenomenon in different countries (Barra 2009; Lee 2011). It is hoped that Chinese subtitle groups can be included in such comparative studies. Future studies can explore the differences and similarities of subtitle groups in different countries at various levels, such as their ways of organizing and mobilizing, the contexts which encourage fansubbing activities, and their relationship with the anti-piracy practices of both governments and copyright-owning businesses. Such studies will contribute to our understanding of the ways in which the fansub cultures of different countries are shaped by national, cultural, technological, and geographical influences, while also representing a new culture of their own.
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