The flood didn't just crush the dam, it also tore away the CCP's cover‑up: warning arrived five hours late, the official seal fell into the water, rescue teams were blocked at the highway entrance; across the strait 500,000 shovel superheroes spontaneously rescued. Disaster is a stress test of the system—who lives, who dies, the answer has long been written by the regime

The video uses the 2023 Beijing‑Tianjin‑Hebei flood and the 2026 Guangxi Liunan Reservoir breach as examples to discuss early warning, flood release, rescue admission, disaster statistics, and post‑disaster accountability, arguing that the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) resource allocation in disasters serves power and information control. The video also compares the Taiwanese Morakot typhoon, the Hualien earthquake, and the aftermath of the Matianxi landslide‑dam breach in terms of government accountability, civilian rescue, and information‑release mechanisms.

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When you block the flood, when you block rumors, think about it: the water has already flooded homes, and they are still building a second levee. Officials honestly reject fragmented cognition. Recently the CCP’s “people’s soldiers” white‑shooting is also evident—what’s up? Are the CCP’s troops now trained in Hengdian? On the already drained streets, the slogans shouted, “Ah, that’s dedication!” Do you think these bastards ever get 300 yuan a day, why do they act so hard‑working?

Today we’ll talk about what? We’ll discuss the real factor behind CCP‑related disasters that decides who lives and who dies—the system. In fact, the CCP’s system is not an exception in the face of disaster; on the contrary, it is a pressure test of the whole system, or a crossroads. As the saying goes, we don’t watch ads, we look at efficacy, we look at whether early warning protects you during a disaster, or who is prioritized for protection, who can enter the disaster zone, and who has the right to publish death figures. When these issues are put together, the CCP’s two‑big‑claims are basically seen through.

First, we must objectively say that the CCP organization is not a total waste; it is something with a very high degree of selective implementation. Take the CCP’s idiot leader Xi Jinping: if this idiot really wants to rescue, the army, fire‑fighters, finance, media—everything can be mobilized instantly. If the idiot “Emperor Xi” himself does not want to handle the matter, that capability collapses instantly. So the root problem is not whether resources exist, but that resource allocation first serves power, then human lives.

We will go fact by fact and see what weight Chinese people have in the mind of this idiot Xi. First, the 2023 event. Typhoon Doksuri hit the entire Beijing‑Tianjin‑Hebei region; Beijing experienced rain, I remember even the Forbidden City was flooded, right? Then Hebei successively activated seven flood‑storage zones, with two just around Zhuozhou. By August 1, the number of people affected in Zhuozhou exceeded 130,000, with more than 140 villages directly submerged. What did the Hebei provincial party secretary publicly say? He said they would activate flood‑storage belts to relieve Beijing’s flood‑control pressure, acting as the capital’s moat. A Hebei secretary’s responsibility is not for Hebei residents, but for Beijing and Xiong’an. Then the CCP’s Ministry of Water Resources—what did it demand? It required absolute safety for Xiong’an New Area.

Consider these two sentences: you don't need to look at anything else, just consider these two sentences. What do they translate to? This country not only stratifies people, but also stratifies space. The safety of the political core area has become personified and absolutized. People often say, "Human rights can't be a staple food," which is not false, but without human rights, the cost for the CCP to take your life is infinitely low. Whether it's the distribution of benefits or deciding who is on the most dangerous front, everything is allocated according to power. And what does the CCP play at? Even disaster‑stricken citizens cannot be wasted; they must not be wasted at all. Seizing the opportunity, the CCP uses media monopoly to create a few so‑called disaster relief heroes, pose as rescuers, and continue to squeeze a bit of liquidity from these victims. What if no victims cooperate? Even the PLA is staged; they hire actors to play victims—how hard is that? Not hard at all.

Why am I still talking about this stale 2023 incident today? Because you can clearly see that the handling of the 2023 disaster has become a template. How did the CCP do it then? Let's replay it. This template has been reproduced countless times in this year's flood zones.

First, the warning part. Back then, the CCP could issue warnings; it wasn't completely unable to. I always say I no longer blacken the CCP; I say whatever I have to say. But how was the notice issued? When the upstream had already secretly released floodwater and the flood peak was only a few hours away, the CCP issued what kind of warning? An orange warning for heavy rain. No, it didn't tell you they had already breached the dam; it told you the rain would keep falling. That damn warning contained no substantive information—no release time, no projected water depth, no inundation boundaries, no mandatory evacuation order—nothing.

It gets worse. Urban residents received a text at 7 p.m. saying the flood peak was imminent; when they went outside, the intersection was already knee‑deep in water. In short, issuing a warning and completing a warning are two different things. A truly effective warning must answer five questions: when the disaster will arrive, where exactly it will flood, how severe it will be, what you must do now, and who is responsible for evacuating you or delivering supplies. The CCP merely pushed a single heavy‑rain warning—its simplest measure—letting the public estimate the disaster scale based on that. Does that mean the CCP likes to brag about being far ahead? Chinese citizens can gauge disaster scale from a warning with zero informational content; the average person has become a meteorological calculation center. That's not being ahead; what is it?

At that moment, what was the CCP's warning for? It wasn't for saving lives; it was for the local governments to later shirk responsibility. Once a disaster occurs, local officials start making excuses, claiming they issued notices, blaming the people for not acting, not cherishing the self‑rescue window. The orange heavy‑rain warning was used for that purpose. The logic from the 2023 Hebei Zhuozhou case has become a full template by 2025‑2026.

You know that at the end of July last year, the Beijing‑Tianjin‑Hebei region experienced an epic rainstorm? Beijing recorded 44 disaster‑related deaths, and a nursing home in Miyun lost 32 elderly residents. That nursing home housed 77 people, most of whom were disabled or partially disabled, yet it was never listed for evacuation. The July flood was clearly a man‑made disaster. The main cause of Beijing's flood release was the massive outflow from multiple reservoirs, with no warning. This July, the Liu Nan Reservoir in Hengzhou, Guangxi also breached directly on the same timeline.

Look, this is the timeline the CCP itself published. Compare it to 2023—identical. At 2:30 a.m., water levels already exceeded design flood levels. By 6 a.m., all floodgates were opened, but local residents only received evacuation notices at 8 a.m., and the dam collapsed at 10:20 a.m. Then the flood zone began devouring lives. I don't want to repeat the CCP's figure of 39 deaths because I saw the video: the water rushed down carrying victims' bodies. From 2:30 a.m. to 8 a.m.—five and a half hours—what happened? Nothing was said, no notice was sent.

By the way, the Liunan Reservoir has an even more ironic detail. Back in 2009, about a decade ago, it had already undergone this hazard mitigation reinforcement. The bidding budget at the time was over 70 million yuan, and then at the end of 2023, the reservoir went through another so‑called modernization renovation, with a total investment of 380 million yuan, but the reinforcement of the core dam body accounted for only 16% of that money. In June 2025, the local authorities even issued a press release saying the reservoir had completed standardized construction, turning from a problematic reservoir into a model project, adding "smart monitoring" and a "smart water‑level monitoring system"—basically those kinds of gadgets. Then a year later, this model reservoir was breached again. What happened? The flag hadn’t even been raised before it fell apart.

Since the beginning of this year, there have been a lot of such cases, haven’t there? The Red Flag Grand Bridge, the Yellow River Grand Bridge—back then they bragged about engineering miracles, but it was just the CCP blowing hot air, not even as lasting as bubble‑gum’s sweetness. This was the CCP’s method of deceiving the Chinese people before a disaster struck.

How did they continue to suppress information after the disaster? When Zhuozhou was still a model, several out‑of‑province civilian rescue teams that got the news were stuck at the highway toll; it wasn’t that no one came to help, but after the disaster they weren’t allowed in at all. The reason? They required a local invitation letter and a filing. I’ve mentioned this before, but I didn’t cover what happened next, so I’ll add it today.

At that time a team tried to get the letter, but guess what the reply was? "The official seal fell into the water, we’re arranging someone to retrieve it." I couldn’t help but laugh: have any of you town mayors, county heads, or city mayors ever dropped their seal into the water? Go fetch it! The seal fell into the water, a few people even died, so you hear these people’s magical explanations. The ordinary people were still stuck in the water, and the professional rescue teams with boats had to wait for the seal to be pulled out. Why not wait for the water to recede first? This is the current CCP bureaucratic ecology.

Why does this happen? If we look deeper, the CCP hasn’t always rejected civilian rescue. In the Wenchuan earthquake year, millions of volunteers poured into the disaster zone, which was hailed as the “first year of China’s civil society.” But that door was later systematically closed, and who did it? The “idiot brothers.” In 2017 the CCP introduced a law called the Overseas NGO Management Law, moving the registration and management of foreign NGOs from the civil affairs department to the police, pulling the entire Chinese civil society into the state‑security framework. Going further back, the 709 crackdown in 2015 saw hundreds of rights‑defense lawyers and related figures arrested.

This logic follows a concept called tiered control: you can provide services but you may not raise any demands, and you must hand over command and credit to the CCP government. Organizations that are self‑organized, regionally connected, have independent reputation, and possess sustained mobilization capacity are not disaster‑relief resources for the CCP; they become objects of close surveillance. In short, the “idiot brothers” are never truly concerned about the lives of ordinary people; they fear that Chinese civil society might develop self‑organizing capacity that doesn’t rely on CCP structures. Anyone can see that. The “idiot brothers” even fear volunteer rescue teams that are self‑funded and willing to take risks. This is the current political situation of the CCP.

After the disaster, even Xi’s brother’s stinky, idiotic behavior and rhetoric became a template—the 2023 template. During the Zhuozhou flood, what did the “idiot brothers” do? It was August, I think early August, when Xi was on vacation in Beidaihe. Politburo Standing Committee member Cai Qi even visited a retired senior cadre because, why? Because a press release had been issued. That release made no mention of the floods in North China. Online, a missing‑person notice circulated, looking for the Zhuozhou municipal party secretary and mayor—those two had vanished for several days.

By mid‑August, Zhuozhou had been underwater for more than half a month, children had died, Xi came to “milk” the situation, staged a fake political‑bureau meeting to study flood control, which turned into a bond‑issuance conference. The trillion‑yuan bond issuance that year originated from this. I’ve mentioned this before. By October 10, the disaster had been over for more than three months, and with bond issuance looming, the “idiot brothers” began their performance, claiming they had been closely following the situation every day and deeply concerned for the victims.

I want to say that the disaster victims also miss you a lot, especially those who lost their lives, they miss you even more, old man, they chat with you in your dreams every day, damn stupid Xi Jinping. And this 2023 behavior and rhetoric is now a template again. When the flood struck, did anyone arrive? No, right? When the disaster is happening, was any relief sent to the disaster area? Still none, right? Any explanation and accountability to the victims? Also none. An independent investigation? Even less. You say according to this framework, brothers, isn’t it the same routine?

Even the timing can be pinpointed. Look, when the Liuzhou flood disaster happened in Guangxi, what was this idiot doing? Did this idiot even fart? No, right? Now the flood is almost receded, and he’s starting to miss everyone again. You really shouldn’t miss them, you’re too aggressive. Who you miss, who the hell can benefit? In 2008, regardless of whether Wen Jiabao was an actor or whatever, at least people showed up. This year, Guangxi, Hubei, Gansu all had incidents one after another, not a single member of the Standing Committee showed up, let alone Emperor Xi. Even the department that issues press releases hasn’t changed at all, still the 2023 template, still missing you. This is related to the political ecology of the CCP under Xi’s era.

What is the current political ecology of the CCP? It’s about taking credit for successes and sinking blame for failures. If something is done well, who gets the credit? It’s Xi’s important directive, the stinky idiot’s. If it fails or isn’t achieved, what then? It’s the local cadres’ poor execution, lack of risk awareness. After the 720 incident in Zhengzhou, there was indeed a State Council investigation and officials were punished. To put it bluntly, the core responsibility for the deteriorating disaster relief ecology is that damn idiot Xi. The small‑minded local officials can’t afford his orders.

Just look at this: after those local officials are dealt with, does society have an independent right to investigate? No, right? If the idiot’s subordinates think the responsible person has already been dealt with, belonging to the state, then theoretically they shouldn’t fear an independent probe. Unless the whole disaster process isn’t pointing to any specific individual but to the entire CCP system. That judgment is sound, right? The victims still have no right to investigate, the media can’t keep asking, there’s no channel to turn responsibility into votes, meaning there’s no way to turn it into political pressure.

Now let’s look at how Taiwan handles disaster relief. After seeing Taiwan’s disaster response, you’ll understand why China always feels Taiwan is a choking problem. In 2009, Taiwan experienced Typhoon Morakot, and the whole Xiaolin village was devastated. The Control Yuan later investigated and frankly concluded that the central government should bear primary responsibility, citing central disaster assessment errors, insufficient rescue communication, and untimely relief. In other words, democratic governments can also be slow and cause casualties in disasters. But what happened next is the real difference from the CCP. Ma Ying‑jeou openly admitted the preparation was insufficient, the rescue was delayed, and apologized to the whole society. The president, when making mistakes, can only stand upright and face journalists’ questions. At that time, Premier Liu Chao‑hsuan resigned, the cabinet was reshuffled, and the Control Yuan began correcting issues item by item. Subsequently, Taiwan’s disaster prevention and relief system underwent a major reform. So I can say: democracy may not stop governments from making fatal errors, but it stops what? It stops errors from being sealed as unquestionable correct decisions, which is what the CCP does.

What did democracy change? It changed the environment of investigation. Taiwan’s investigations occur under media scrutiny, party pressure, and the threat of votes, so the investigation is not a closed process decided by power when it feels like turning the page, but rather a starting point for multi‑party bargaining. Bargaining creates good institutions. Also, the 7.2‑magnitude earthquake in Hualien in April 2024 killed 18 people; the Executive Yuan immediately set up a central disaster response center, and the president and vice‑president went to the site that same day. Note, legally the Taiwanese president is not the on‑site commander; the commander is still the local response center stipulated by the Disaster Prevention and Response Act. No matter how high your rank, you don’t have local rescue command authority, so the entire professional chain runs according to what? It runs according to law.

But when a political figure appears immediately, what do they bear? You may be dissatisfied, you may curse, even next time you can teach them a lesson with your vote. But this is a field, and the meaning of this field is not the CCP's condescending, patronizing performance of benevolence. In fact, what is his patronizing performance? Performance is a kind of benevolence. But for the president of Taiwan, what is this? It is something he must do, a political survival battle with the vote hanging around his neck. You could skip the president, you just bear the political consequences. But does this idiot Xiou have any political consequences? No consequences at all; all the consequences are borne by the people, he has none.

What shocked me the most? It was the Taiwanese civil society. In September 2025, the Matianxi dam in Hualien burst, dumping over 15 million cubic meters of water in half an hour, burying Guangfu Township under dozens of tons of silt, killing 19 people. Then what happened across Taiwan? At that time, a spontaneous call from online communities led to a result: citizens from all regions brought shovels, buckets, and rain boots, took trains and flooded into the disaster area. These people later were called "Shovel Supermen." According to Tzu Chi, volunteers in the first three days exceeded 12,000, and over 20 days more than 500,000 volunteers, together with the military and NGOs, cleared 400,000 tons of silt. There was even a Teacher's Day holiday, and on that day more than 40,000 people got off at the small Guangfu station.

What did the Taiwanese government do? The transportation department dispatched free buses daily for shuttles, and the Executive Yuan set up a special agency called the Forward Coordination Office. The Ministry of Defense began mass deployment of equipment, cooperating rather than reviewing. No one waited for government orders; people simply did what needed to be done. This is not some mysticism; it is a system foundation built over decades. NGOs like Tzu Chi are formally incorporated into the central disaster response center's operational guidelines, making them a legal component of the disaster prevention and relief system.

What role does Tzu Chi play in China? It is like, "Are you waiting at the highway entrance? What else are you waiting for? You also have to wait for this official seal to be fished out of the water, while you are also under scrutiny." By the end of 2024, more than 40,000 disaster‑prevention personnel had been registered and trained in Taiwan. The Red Cross and professional search‑and‑rescue associations regularly complete registration training, and when a disaster strikes they immediately integrate into the command system—this is embedding rescue within the people.

From this we can see Taiwan's operational structure: a multi‑center collaboration integrated under institutionalization. Taiwan retains the state's coercive power and security boundaries, but society also retains independent organizational capacity. The CCP's logic pursues a single authoritative command chain nationwide; Taiwan's societal logic is that if one chain breaks, other links can continue to transmit information, mobilize resources, and correct errors.

You can see one thing: whether it is disaster prevention, relief, or mitigation, whose business is it? It's an information business. Whether a disaster can kill you depends on information dissemination. Even post‑disaster resource mobilization relies on information flow. In short, Taiwan's rescue method is to leave enough space for self‑help and mutual aid. What about the CCP? It assumes you are not there to rescue anyone, that you are being bought to later rebel—this is the CCP's insecure brain loop.

Of course we must be honest. Research shows that democratic voters tend to reward visible post‑disaster relief more than invisible pre‑disaster prevention. So politicians develop a short‑term mindset, favoring relief over prevention. This is a bug of the vote, no propaganda here. In the end, information is the most critical accounting item.

The CCP's information control does not silence every voice; what does it do? It makes you selectively see. What you can see are the usual central directives, rescue heroes, donation drives—these you can spread freely. What you cannot see, or are prevented from seeing, is accountability, people more righteous than the CCP rescuing, and the real disaster information. The harshest part of the CCP's internet censorship is not deleting criticism; it deletes expressions with collective‑action potential.

When this logic enters a disaster zone, it becomes: you crying a couple of times personally might be okay, but if you seek help across regions, or you directly go to the scene yourself, tally the death toll or disaster losses, or organize victims to question the decision‑making process, the CCP can’t stand it. So the whole process suffers severe information distortion. If the CCP wants to do disaster relief, what will it do? It needs to know the real situation and mobilize resources, because any relief requires resource mobilization, and the basis for mobilizing resources is the true state of the disaster. The problem is that the CCP doesn’t want to deal with it at all, which turns the whole disaster into an information dilemma, because someone will have to pay for the loss of information transmission. Who pays? The disaster victims.

During the 2025 flood in the Beijing‑Tianjin‑Hebei region, the Cyberspace Administration of China issued a joint statement with the police to crack down on this military‑related rumor. The harshest part is this year—this mother is even more evolved than in 2023, more evolved than 2025, more evolved than 2023. Let’s not talk about distant cases; just look at this year’s six‑yuan water dam breach. Hangzhou’s emergency department said it was only a local gap and that the whole structure was intact. What did the on‑site photos show? The main dam was severely damaged. At the same time, a bunch of idiots in Guangxi shouted an extremely anti‑human slogan, saying what the heck? That flood control has two dikes: one to block floodwater, one to block rumors.

Think about it: the water has already flooded homes and collapsed them, yet they’re still building a second dike, or asking whether the first dike will break. These Mao‑style kids don’t care at all; the main point is that the second dike must not break, the news must not get out, right? In Taiwan, information disclosure is a legal duty. The Disaster Prevention and Relief Act imposes a very high requirement on the Taiwanese government: not only must it estimate the disaster, but also estimate what? It must estimate the potential impact of the disaster, establish an early‑warning network, and proactively collect disaster information.

How is the disaster warning system on Taiwanese phones regulated? An alert must hit your phone within about ten to twenty seconds before the seismic waves arrive. Let me tell you how advanced Taiwan’s civilian self‑rescue system is. There is a very interesting community called G0V, also known as the “temporary government.” That name is already domineering. Could such a name be created in the CCP’s country? Definitely not. These people have been at it for over a decade and have held more than 50 hackathons. What’s a hackathon? It’s a marathon coding event where a bunch of network engineers focus on disaster‑prevention applications, all voluntarily and unpaid.

But don’t assume they’re all programmers; 60% of participants aren’t technically trained at all—they’re ordinary citizens. When a disaster actually strikes, how does this system work? For example, if my house is flooded right now, the official Taiwanese system might not have responded yet, but at that moment I can simply report it. I become a sensor in the disaster zone. Another example: if a disaster‑hit area starts lacking water and food, and someone elsewhere knows my information and has supplies and vehicles, engineers will set up a shared document overnight, match the two sides’ situations, and the supplies can flow on their own. What is the prerequisite for material flow? Information flow.

When the disaster recedes, it’s time to reconcile with the government, because someone will specifically keep the timeline, counting things like: when was the early warning issued, when was the decision made, when were people rescued, line by line, and then compare it with the government. So, have you seen it? The right to know is the disaster‑relief system itself, a piece of infrastructure on the same level as the dikes.

Taiwan’s system has also missed reports, such as the 2024 Hualien earthquake, where some areas didn’t receive a national‑level alert. But look at the follow‑up: people were publicly named, the rules were openly discussed, and from September of that year the alert‑release scope was expanded. What is the CCP’s system? It treats errors as political risks that threaten the regime, so the CCP first investigates who omitted the information. An open system treats errors as public knowledge that needs correction. No matter who you are—even if you’re the president—you’ll be forced to answer how to prevent the next disaster.

You might think this is just the CCP having the government and Taiwan relying on civilians, but that’s not the case. The Republic of China government also holds unified command and mobilization authority and can dispatch troops when needed. China’s civil society has never lacked volunteers who genuinely want to help, so the difference isn’t about having these elements; the difference is who should be listened to when contradictions arise.

On the CCP side, what is the contradiction? The government wants control, but society wants to self‑rescue; the two are in complete conflict. For China, which side gets to decide is the real issue. So what you see is information blockage. The CCP’s theatrical act is a joke; relying on a few PLA soldiers shouting outside, filming two videos, and that’s it—just disaster relief.

But the real determinants of the disaster‑relief system are these few things, i.e., these few issues. Take a flood, for example: before the water arrives, did the notification reach your phone, and was it in time for you to evacuate? Did they ask you when your home was designated as a flood‑release area? Will they compensate you afterward? Are there possibilities for mutual aid and rescue? Does cross‑regional rescue require an invitation letter, and can ordinary people check the death toll themselves, verify it, and is there any error‑correction mechanism?

In the CCP, not only are there no answers to these questions, but if you publicly question them, you will be censored and arrested. So it’s not a matter of whether the CCP system wants to provide disaster relief; it simply cannot because it suppresses information from start to finish. You can’t flee before the disaster, you can’t get rescue after it, and you can’t obtain compensation at the end.

Thus the Chinese public is not paying for the disaster itself, but for information. That is why we must always keep information flowing. The disaster itself does not take lives; information does.