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Zhou Shuren is widely regarded as one of China’s most influential 20th-century writers. But to most readers, he is known as Lu Xun, one of the more than 100 pen names the author used, often to evade the repercussions of provocative political views.

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The longstanding Chinese tradition of using pen names persists on blogs and the Internet, as authors seek to separate their writerly personas from their real identities. In some cases — particularly when writings may be deemed controversial or delicate — pseudonyms have taken on greater importance, shielding authors from unwanted public or government scrutiny.

But now, that tradition is falling out of favor with the Chinese government.



In new guidelines on online literature made public this month by the State Administration of Press, Publication, Radio, Film and Television, the government called for a system that would require all authors to register their real names with publishing platforms on the Internet.

Under the guidelines, creators of online content will still be allowed to publish under pen names. But unlike before, when some writers registered accounts under fake names, websites will know exactly who is publishing what.

Linking the identities of authors with their writings online, the guidelines say, will encourage them to “take better responsibility” for their works as well as strengthen their “professional moral education and training.” The aim is to promote “healthy” online literature and to root out problems like plagiarism and poor quality, the guidelines state.

“It is very clear that the government is taking these measures with the intention of suppressing online creativity,” the writer known as Murong Xuecun, whose real name is Hao Qun, said in an interview.

The new system is part of continuing efforts to rein in online publishing, which in contrast with the heavily regulated print sector has been flourishing relatively unimpeded. In a January 2014 survey, the China Internet Network Information Center, an agency under the Ministry of Information Industry, counted more than 274 million readers of online literature in China, about 44 percent of the country’s Internet users.

The state news agency Xinhua reported that the guidelines were issued in response to remarks by President Xi Jinping last October calling on artists to spread “Chinese values” and not be “slaves” to the market.

The guidelines are unlikely to affect established online authors, most of whom have signed contracts with online publishers under their real names.

Instead, the new document is likely to have the greatest impact on the many amateur authors who publish online without contracts, said Michel Hockx, a professor at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London and the author of a forthcoming book on Chinese Internet literature.

Many aspiring writers post works on popular online publishing platforms like Qidian and Rongshuxia, both of which are owned by Shanda Cloudary, a publisher recently acquired by Tencent. If authors build up large readerships, Mr. Hockx said, they will often be offered contracts and their works will be moved behind a pay wall.

“For these amateur writers,” said Mr. Hockx, “real-name registration might be a deterrent, especially if they work in genres such as the various forms of erotic fiction that are on the borderline of what is permissible.”

Some online publishing platforms, such as Baidu Literature, the literary branch of the Chinese search-engine giant, already require real-name registration.

Even so, the number of unregistered online authors is “probably still very high,” said Chen Wangzhi, marketing director for Baidu Literature.

In an interview, Mr. Chen said that some high-profile writers register under fake names because they have signed exclusive contracts with other publishing platforms. Others register with pseudonyms to publish “questionable” work, perhaps having to do with politics, sex or violence, he said.

“If we only know their user name, it’s like having a veil over their identity,” Mr. Chen said. “They feel like they can do anything.”

The new guidelines are part of the government’s targeted efforts to assert control over Chinese cyberspace. It has been trying since 2012 to establish a system that would require social media users to disclose their identities. But the program — often called the real-name registration system — has been only loosely implemented in the past few years.

That appears to be changing. The government also announced this month that efforts to increase real-name registration would be extended to websites that host videos and to instant-messaging tools like Weixin, the hugely popular platform owned by Tencent.

“We’ll take the real-identity system as a principle and our major work this year, and extend the system to other online industries, such as forums and microblogging platforms,” said Xu Feng, director of the Bureau of Mobile Internet under the Cyberspace Administration of China, the country’s top Internet monitor, in remarks reported by China Daily.

The government said the system was intended to limit the spread of rumors, pornography, fraud, terrorism and other unhealthy practices.

But free speech advocates suspect more nefarious motives, and have expressed concerns that the system will lead to more self-censorship and possibly to leaks of personal data.

The practice of using pen names has deep roots in China. Traditionally, a person might go through life under a succession of names, including a birth name, a school name and an adult name. Members of the literati might also acquire a hao, essentially a pseudonym and honorific.

Artists looking to publish work that might draw controversy were likely to adopt pen names. A prominent example is the author of the 16th-century erotic novel “The Plum in the Golden Vase,” who used the pseudonym Lanling Xiaoxiao Sheng, or the Scoffing Scholar of Lanling. Many suspect that the author, whose real identity remains unknown, chose to remain anonymous to avoid censure for a novel that is considered racy even by contemporary standards.

Pseudonyms were especially popular among Chinese pre-revolutionary and revolutionary writers of the 20th century, such as Lu Xun.

“For Lu Xun, it was about individual creative freedom,” said Liang Hong, a professor of Chinese literature at the China Youth University of Political Sciences in Beijing. “It also had to do with the political climate at the time. He wrote under different pen names, in part to evade censors.”

Other writers, such as Ba Jin, who took his pen name from the Russian anarchists Mikhail Bakunin and Peter Kropotkin (pronounced Ke-lu-pao-te-jin in Chinese), chose names for their metaphorical significance, Ms. Liang said.

Even Mao Zedong used a pseudonym in the late 1940s, as he was leaving the Communist base of Yan’an. Mao is said to have liked the pseudonym Li Desheng — thought to be a contraction of the Chinese phrase for “leaving Yan’an, achieving victory” — so much that he chose Li as the surname for his two daughters, Li Na and Li Min.

Many successful Chinese writers use pseudonyms today. Besides Mr. Murong, they include Jiang Rong, the pen name of the author of “Wolf Totem”; Mai Jia, author of “Decoded”; A Yi, a prolific blogger and author of the short story collection “The Bird Saw Me”; Nanpai Sanshu, author of the popular online series “Secrets of a Grave Robber”; Guo Jingming, author of the “Tiny Times” series, who began writing under the name Disiwei; and Mo Yan (Chinese for “Don’t Speak”), who was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2012.

“Pen names are very common in China,” said Ms. Liang of China Youth University. “It’s not something that writers feel they have to have or not have. This is about their freedom to have a pen name.”

Not all contemporary authors publish online. For those who do, the new guidelines are likely to have only limited impact, as the identities of those who use pen names are in many cases already known to the public. At most, Mr. Murong predicted, many will be forced to register again on social media and publishing platforms — more of an inconvenience than a clampdown.

Still, the new measures suggest new limits on expression, Mr. Murong said.

“This is just a small part of a series of measures intended to stifle the space for online creativity,” he said. “The government realizes it can’t be done in a day. It will be a very slow process.”

Chen Jiehao contributed research.