BEIJING, Dec. 20 — The series of activities for the 7th "My China Story" International Short Video Competition was held in Beijing on Saturday.

Among the distinguished guests was renowned British filmmaker and two-time Oscar winner Malcolm Clarke, who attended the ceremony and delivered an address on the future of international storytelling.

Full text of the speech follows:

Recently, when people ask me how to tell China’s story to the world, I find my hesitating. Not because China lacks stories — it has a wealth of fascinating subjects; more than any filmmaker could ever capture — but because for me, the real question is not what story to tell - but rather - how to tell the story, and perhaps even more importantly, how not to tell it.

We are living in a moment of unusual global silence. During the Trump years, the United States has slowly stepped back from its traditional role as a global storyteller. Not just politically, but culturally and morally the US no longer tries to explain its world view with confidence and  consistency. It confronts and confuses its traditional allies so they, in turn, retreat - distancing themselves within a self-imposed silence. That silence has created opportunity and space. And in that space, many people now look to China — sometimes with curiosity, sometimes with anxiety — but very often without any real understanding at all of who Chinese people actually are. This is why I believe we are at a rare moment. If China wants to be understood internationally, this is the time.

But understanding cannot be demanded. It has to be invited. In the past, international communication often meant big films, official documentaries, carefully crafted messages. Today, that entire world has changed. China is now seen through short videos, through social media, through fragments of daily life shared on platforms that didn’t exist when I first came here to make a film ten years ago. Today, a factory worker with a cell phone can reach more people than a national broadcaster once could. Yet despite all these changes, one thing remains unchanged.

People do not connect with systems. They connect with other people. No algorithm, no platform, no technology can replace people. And I regret to say that this is where Chinese storytellers often make the same mistake — again and again.

China tries to tell stories that are too clean. Too complete. Too certain. Too perfect. In China, this often feels natural. A perfect character is seen as a role model. A perfect motivation is seen as inspirational. A flawless dream is seen as something that people can aspire to. But outside China — and increasingly inside China as well — perfection raises suspicion. International audiences are extremely sensitive to ideology, even when it’s unintentional. They may not always know why a story makes them uncomfortable, but they know when something feels constructed, rather than lived. And the moment a viewer senses propaganda, the conversation ends. There is no debate. There is no second chance.

I saw an example of this happen very recently inside China, when a promotional film, portraying the lives of delivery workers in an overly idealized way  had to be taken down after it aroused a great deal of public criticism. People weren’t reject the workers — they were rejecting the absence of reality. Because reality has friction. And friction is where truth lives.

China’s extraordinary transformation was not smooth. It was not painless. And it was not inevitable. It was built by people who made compromises, who left their homes, who missed their children growing up, who endured uncertainty and pressure not because of ideology, but because they yearned for something very simple: a better life. For themselves. And for their families. If we only show the results, and never the cost, we are no longer telling stories — we are delivering conclusions. And conclusions do not travel well across cultures.

I often say that China does not need better explanations. It needs more honest witnesses. Even as an experienced filmmaker who harbors great regard for China, I still find that when a documentary about a city begins to reveal complexity and contradiction, it quickly attracts government scrutiny. And that is frustrating, because those inconsistencies are precisely the elements that give a story authenticity, credibility - the ring of truth!

Complexity is not weakness. In fact, complexity is confidence. A society that allows its stories to breathe — to include doubt, sacrifice, contradiction, even failure — is a society that believes in its own legitimacy. International communication is not about persuading others that you are right. It is about allowing them to recognize something of themselves in your stories.

When audiences see Chinese people facing dilemmas they understand — between stability and risk, between family and ambition, between tradition and change — something very simple happens. They stop watching “China”. They start watching people. And that is where soft power begins. Not with pride. Not with slogans. But with trust.

China does not lack success stories. What it needs is the courage to let those stories be imperfect, unfinished, and deeply human. Only then will China not need to explain itself to the world.

Why? Because it will be understood.