A Brief Yet Fascinating History of China’s Auto Troll Industry

The Origins of “Water Army” (2005 and Beyond)

The term “water army” first surfaced around 2005.
According to the soon-to-be-published book An Idiot’s Guide to PR in China’s Auto Industry, it refers to online mercenaries—paid writers tasked with promoting or attacking specific content. Disguised as everyday internet users, they post, reply, and spread information in ways that subtly influence public opinion for profit.

Frankly, I find this definition a little oversimplified. If being paid to post online automatically made one a “water army,” then wouldn’t every monetized social media account fit the bill? A better measure is whether someone speaks under their real identity and takes responsibility for their words. While China has long implemented real-name registration online, this is largely “back-end” verification—users can still present themselves under entirely fabricated personas in public spaces.

If one were to write an unofficial history of China’s auto industry, the “water army” would be an unavoidable chapter. These hidden keyboard warriors have evolved—from ragtag freelancers in the early days into today’s fully automated “drone forces”—tracing a growth curve far steeper than the industry’s actual technological progress.

Dial-Up Era: The Birth of Auto Forums and Proto–Water Armies (2000–2010)

In the early 2000s, China’s car market was in an awkward transition—from the “big three” models dominating the streets to a diverse market. Joint ventures guarded their tech advantages, while domestic brands were still mastering “reverse engineering.” Everyone wanted a louder voice in online forums.

Back then, auto media was as innocent as fresh graduates. Notably, Li Bin (later founder of NIO) launched BitAuto in 2000, and Li Xiang (later founder of Li Auto) created Autohome in 2005. Ironically, the same industry pioneers who now lament being victims of troll attacks helped build the earliest breeding grounds for such activities.

At the time, online battles were simple. Santana owners clashed with Jetta drivers, Jetta fans dueled with Citroën Fukang loyalists. PR tactics were crude: either praise your own brand as “durable” or slam the rival’s “frequent breakdowns.” One Jetta dealer even offered free car washes for posting compliments online—the cheapest propaganda campaign in Chinese auto history.

Forum moderators (then called banzhu) were unpaid volunteers, but soon realized their power to delete or bury posts could be monetized. Initially, manufacturers offered perks like fuel cards; later, cash payments flowed via PR agencies. Before long, every brand’s forum became an extension of its corporate site. With real discussion stifled, forum traffic cooled rapidly, and the first “water army revolution” fizzled out.

This period was still amateur hour—part-time recruits with no clear division of labor, no advanced tools, and a mutual desire among automakers to keep things “civil.” It was more of an awkward first dance between supply and demand than an organized war.

Weibo Warfare: The Water Army’s “Founding Day” (2010–2015)

From 2009 to 2010, Weibo transformed China’s media landscape. Suddenly, anyone could be heard, echoing Andy Warhol’s prophecy that “in the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes.” Brands quickly realized that these 15 minutes could be monetized.

Weibo’s 140-character limit turned drawn-out “trench wars” into rapid “blitzkriegs.” Marketing teams saw the shift from centralized platforms to decentralized conversations, where every voice mattered—and was exploitable.

Professional water army companies emerged, running operations like call centers with dozens of screens displaying countless accounts. Each operative managed dozens or even hundreds of profiles, posting carefully crafted content. Leaked contracts from the era revealed startling precision:

• 500 real-name accounts for reposts
• 1,000 image-based comments per campaign, each containing keywords like “fuel-efficient” and “spacious”
• One typo per 10 posts to “enhance authenticity”
• Crisis services to bury negative news within 10 minutes using scripted rebuttals like, “My friend’s had this car for three years—no issues at all.”

With supply so professionalized, automakers began budgeting for ongoing “public opinion maintenance,” with some brands increasing spending tenfold in just a year. Weibo’s low barrier to entry shifted the focus from quality to sheer volume, fueling an unprecedented boom in troll activity.

By now, the water army was no longer a loose network—it had become a capitalized, industrialized machine with transparent pricing, diverse “product lines,” and organized attack-defense strategies. The term “50-cent party” (wumao) emerged, reflecting a competitive marketplace where operatives underbid each other for contracts.

This era saw traditional auto media’s authority eroded as “grassroots” voices—real and fake—multiplied. The market’s core contradiction became clear: ever-growing demand for corporate self-congratulation versus the lagging productivity of the water army industry.

The New Energy Offensive: From Defense to Full-Scale Attack (2015–2020)

The real game-changer came with the rise of new energy vehicles (NEVs).

When industry standards blur, the battle shifts to defining those standards. In the NEV space, market valuation often depended more on perception—investor expectations and consumer sentiment—than on traditional metrics. This made public opinion a powerful lever for both boosting and short-selling stocks.

Water armies, now fully embedded within corporate structures, moved from defensive reputation management to aggressive assaults on rivals. Some campaigns went beyond opinion-shaping into outright black PR—manufacturing false facts. This included:

• Manipulated videos exaggerating range loss in EVs
• Thermal imaging “proof” of battery overheating, achieved by zooming in on small hotspots
• Professionally engineered “user complaints” scripted to sound authentic

New “black tech” tools emerged, like AI-assisted script generators that could output negative reviews tailored to specific target audiences (“mom’s perspective,” “programmer’s test drive,” “taxi driver’s experience”), often with input from ex-engineers to maximize credibility.

By this point, automakers’ propaganda sophistication rivaled the wartime propaganda strategies outlined by political scientist Harold Lasswell—targeting emotional triggers, reframing inconvenient truths, and using unrefutable narratives.

The Post-Truth Era: Into the AI-Controlled “No Man’s Land” (2020–Present)

In the 2020s, the battleground shifted again. Automakers began demanding not just control over narratives, but the creation of entire artificial realities.

With smart cars expanding competition into domains like autonomous driving, in-car ecosystems, and connected services, brands now sought to fabricate the appearance of thriving user communities. Sometimes, this even involved orchestrated “mutual affection”—deliberately sparking criticism (e.g., “prices are too high”) so the brand could respond with “listening to the people” gestures like temporary discounts.

Enter AI-powered water armies. These bots can run fully “personified” accounts—such as a fictional “Gen Z programmer” posting about late-night commutes assisted by autopilot, complete with artfully cropped steering wheel and coffee cup photos. They adapt to trending memes in real time, work 24/7, and cost a fraction of human operatives.

The result? Brands are increasingly engaged with manufactured audiences, while genuine consumer voices are sidelined. The auto discourse risks becoming an AI-only echo chamber, where algorithms market to each other and humans merely analyze their synthetic data.

The Bigger Picture: A Symptom of Industry Decline

The evolution of China’s auto water armies mirrors the decline in real marketing competence across the industry. Falsity and truth are inversely linked: as digital deception grows, genuine insight and skill wither.

Today’s marketing hires often come from high-profile tech companies, but personnel changes cannot mask the deeper collapse of authentic engagement. Water armies are merely one manifestation of automakers’ own arrogance, weakness, and laziness—a self-inflicted “flower of evil” that thrives in a greenhouse of digital lies.

Ultimately, constant deception may allow a brand to “win” against competitors, but it will also make them their own grave-digger. In the end, the market will bury those who traded reality for the fleeting thrill of online illusions.