Why Taiwan is cracking down on RedNote
Taiwan’s crackdown on RedNote isn’t about ideology or censorship, asserts Taiwan academic Ho Ming-sho. It’s a legal showdown over accountability, as the island demands foreign platforms obey its laws — or lose access.
In early December, Taiwan’s Ministry of the Interior announced measures against the popular social media platform RedNote (Xiaohongshu), ordering internet service providers to suspend domain name resolution and restrict access for an initial period of one year. The government cited several reasons: cybersecurity risks, the platform’s alleged role in facilitating scams, and — most importantly — its refusal to comply with Taiwan’s legal requirements by appointing a local legal representative to handle disputes, complaints and regulatory communication.
RedNote is said to be involved with more than 1,700 reported fraud cases in Taiwan since 2024. These numbers quickly became the focal point of public debate. Yet concentrating solely on scams risks missing the deeper and more consequential issue at stake: whether a powerful foreign digital platform is willing to submit to Taiwan’s legal jurisdiction and regulatory framework.
Public backlash and Beijing’s response
RedNote and TikTok are both developed and operated by Chinese companies, but they serve different social functions. TikTok is best known for short and viral videos, while RedNote positions itself as a lifestyle platform — part beauty guide, part travel diary, part everyday encyclopaedia. It has gained particular popularity among young women, who were enchanted by its safer space. Its user base in Taiwan has grown rapidly, with estimates reaching nearly three million users.
When Taiwanese journalists asked when Facebook would be allowed back into mainland China, the official hesitated and dodged the question...
Unsurprisingly, the restriction triggered an immediate pushback. RedNote briefly surged to the top of app download charts, and online forums filled with guides on how to bypass blocks using virtual private networks (VPNs). Opposition politicians accused the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) government of curbing freedom of expression and selectively targeting platforms of Chinese origin. Some went so far as to mock the policy as “anti-China to the point of becoming authoritarian” or a “digital martial law”.
Beijing quickly echoed these criticisms. A spokesperson from China’s Taiwan Affairs Office claimed that Taiwan’s actions were “anti-democratic in the name of anti-fraud”. Yet this rhetorical attack rang hollow. When Taiwanese journalists asked when Facebook would be allowed back into mainland China, the official hesitated and dodged the question — a stark reminder of the Chinese government’s own sweeping internet censorship. The contrast revealed a familiar double standard: harsh condemnation of others’ regulations, paired with silence about one’s own restrictions.
Regulating the digital sphere
Taiwan, however, is neither an authoritarian state nor a society attempting to police online opinion. It is a constitutional democracy governed by the rule of law. The challenge it faces — like many democracies worldwide — is how to govern an increasingly complex digital environment where platforms operate across borders while evading accountability. The starting point must be legal clarity, procedural fairness and open public debate.
Yet it does not follow that all forms of platform regulation are inherently anti-democratic or violations of human rights.
The internet often feels borderless, effortlessly crossing geography and language. But digital platforms do not exist in a legal vacuum. They operate within nation-state systems, benefit from local infrastructure and markets, and inevitably affect local users. Authoritarian regimes often block apps and websites to suppress dissent, and such practices rightly deserve condemnation. Yet it does not follow that all forms of platform regulation are inherently anti-democratic or violations of human rights.
In recent years, democratic governments have become far more active in regulating the digital sphere — each for different reasons. Australia has recently passed legislation restricting access to major social media platforms for users under sixteen, citing concerns about mental health, algorithmic harm and data privacy. In the US, Congress in 2024 demanded that TikTok divest its US operations within six months, citing national security and data protection concerns. Earlier still, India — the world’s largest democracy — banned dozens of Chinese-developed apps in 2020, including TikTok, explicitly invoking sovereignty and national security.
The real problem: compliance
Taiwan’s case differs in an important respect. The government did not invoke national security as the primary justification for restricting RedNote. If online influence operations were the main concern, TikTok — with its much larger user base — would logically be the more significant target. Nor is fraud, by itself, the decisive factor. Platforms operated by the US-based Meta, including Facebook, Instagram and Threads, consistently generate higher numbers of reported scam cases in Taiwan. The crucial distinction lies elsewhere: compliance.
Meta and ByteDance (TikTok’s parent company) have both agreed to appoint local legal representatives and establish formal channels for regulatory communication. This does not mean they are beyond criticism or free from controversy, but it does mean that when problems arise — whether involving fraud, privacy or content moderation — Taiwanese authorities have identifiable counterparts who can be held accountable under local law.
RedNote has taken a different approach. Through the Straits Exchange Foundation, Taiwan formally requested that the platform’s Shanghai-based parent company, Xingyin Information Technology, propose concrete compliance measures in October, without receiving any response. No representative was appointed, and no mechanism for dispute resolution was established.
At stake is a basic principle: if a platform wants access to Taiwan’s market and users, it must also accept Taiwan’s laws.
The real reason for RedNote’s plight
Deputy Interior Minister Ma Shih-yuan offered a vivid analogy: RedNote is like a “smuggled bus”. It looks attractive, offers free rides and provides entertainment along the way. But it was never legally imported, lacks registration and has not passed safety inspections. Worse still, if it speeds or runs through a red light, Taiwan’s police have no legal means to stop it because it carries a Shanghai licence plate, rather than a local one.
In fact, this is not the first time the Taiwanese government has acted against China‑based internet services. In 2020, it prohibited local companies from selling or distributing Chinese streaming platforms such as iQiyi. In the same year, Taobao Taiwan was ordered to re‑register under Taiwanese law or withdraw, and the company chose to cease operations. Both cases were implemented with relatively little public controversy.
Framing the RedNote decision purely as an anti-fraud measure obscures this fundamental governance challenge. At stake is a basic principle: if a platform wants access to Taiwan’s market and users, it must also accept Taiwan’s laws. Legal compliance is not censorship; it is the minimum condition for accountability in a digital age.