The Chinese government is bipolar. On March 2, in a landmark United Nations resolution, it voted for new sanctions against its long-time ally North Korea. But then, just eight days later, on March 10, it introduced new media laws that would make Kim Jong-un proud: the Director of State Administration for Press, Publications, Broadcasting, Television and Film (SAPPBTF) issued a single-page document that effectively banned all foreign and joint-venture media from publishing or distributing digital content, including ‘texts, maps, art, games, animations and videos’. (The edict, signed in red, obviously immediately went viral.)

The state already controls the Chinese media either directly or through self-censorship, and back in August 2014, it cracked down on bloggers using popular Chinese social-media sites such as WeChat. By banning the use of pseudonyms, demanding users follow seven rules and pass a test to have the right to publish – a bit like a bloggers’ driving license – the government said it was acting to stop people ‘damaging other people’s rights and interests and public security in the name of freedom of speech’. This, it said was, ‘true freedom of speech’.

Until now the Chinese government has generally dealt with the foreign media as might a stern teacher with naughty children: publish an unpalatable article and your site will receive a slap on the wrist and be blocked for a few days. Of course, news organizations, such as the Financial Times China and the Wall Street Journal China, have always known that the government might intervene, particularly since 2012 when it did, banning the New York Times’ website and social-media accounts for publishing stories about the assets of former premier Wen Jiabo and his family (then worth $2.7 billion, according to the newspaper). But until now this treatment was more or less restricted to major news players; the Chinese government has never taken much notice of the fashion media.

So the ban, and its unrestricted nature, came as a surprise to fashion-media powerhouses such as Hearst and Condé Nast, leaving them dumbfounded and confused. Both comp­anies have spent 20 years investing heavily in the development of their digital presence in China, while majorly wooing both SAPPBTF and the General Administration of Press and Publications (GAPP) agency to protect their business interests. All on the understanding that as long as they stayed away from politics, they would be left alone in China to make their millions. That said, the fashion media have experienced their fair share of adversity in China. A year after Vogue was launched in the country, its editorial office was forced to move from Shanghai to Beijing due to some small technicality in Chinese regulations. The rumour at the time was that a rival had actually reported Vogue’s violation to the authorities.

On another occasion, L’Officiel Chine was banned for three months for featuring a celebrity in a pair of trousers that supposedly looked like the Japanese flag. That time it was said that a competitor had written a letter claiming the publication was ‘unpatriotic’. As for the why of the most recent ban, brought in despite foreign-media outlets being only tiny players in the Chinese market, there are various theories, the most obvious being the government’s renewed desire to clamp down on the possibility of any kind of dissent. Right before the total ban came into effect, for example, Ren Zhiqiang, a real-estate tycoon and Communist Party member with 37 million online followers, was taken offline for reportedly saying that China’s news media must represent and serve the public’s interest, not just those of the party. Zhiqiang then became the victim of a barrage of attacks and insults in all official media mouthpieces that questioned his loyalty to the party and dubbed him a rabid dog.

Another theory is that the ban is more devious and was designed by political opponents of Xi Jinping, general secretary of the Communist Party in China, to ensure the foreign press hate Xi’s guts. Since he came to power almost four years ago, Xi has been known for his hard-line policy towards state media, which he believes should be Communist Party mouthpieces. As of mid-March, none of the foreign-press websites have in fact been shut down, so the ban might simply have been a timely reminder to the media of the Chinese government’s preferred methods – fear and intimidation. Stay in line, it says, or we will come for you. It’s a threat guaranteed to give the foreign media sleepless nights, while ensuring that, no matter how long they have been in the country or how much they have invested, they never forget that they exist but for the grace of the Communist Party.