记者：赵杰、林小龙 资料整理：林小龙 编辑校对：张致君 翻译：吕峰
在中国近代政治转型的曲折历程中，总有一群人始终以理想为灯，以信念为路。他们或沉默坚守，或挺身而出，在历史的激流中为时代留下注脚。郑存柱，既是1989年风云变幻中的亲历者，也是中国民主转型道路上执着的追梦人。从教育岗位到街头游行，从企业家到在野政治力量的一员，他的生命轨迹既见证了时代的撕裂，也体现了思想与责任的重量。在这次深度专访中，郑存柱先生回望八九记忆，剖析民主理念的坚守与实践，坦露他对中国未来的深切期待。无论身处何地，他始终坚持：政治体制改革，才是民族振兴不可或缺的一步。
赵杰：郑老师，您好。我们在开始正式采访之前，先向读者简单介绍一下您的背景。您是安徽合肥人，毕业于合肥教育学院英语系，后来又获得了上海师范大学文学硕士学位。1995年您下海经商创办企业，而在此之前，您曾于1989年参与并发起了安徽省高校学生自治联合会，并率领数百名学生赴京声援天安门事件，是安徽省学校与政府秘密谈判的代表之一。这样的经历十分特殊。能否请您先谈谈，当时您为何会带领学生走上街头？
郑存柱：那是1989年。整个八十年代是中国社会思潮活跃、改革呼声高涨的时期。改革开放使经济体制有了松动，但政治体制改革始终滞后。正如邓小平所说，如果只搞经济体制改革，不搞政治体制改革，就像一个人只用一条腿走路，是走不下去的。温家宝总理后来也提到过，如果没有政治体制改革作保障，经济改革的成果会付诸东流，甚至文革还可能重演。八十年代后期，社会矛盾开始凸显。城乡改革推进后，利益分配不均、下岗潮、物价上涨、权力寻租等问题集中爆发。由于“计划经济与市场经济并行”的双轨制，一些掌握批条权力的干部可以低价获得稀缺资源，再以高价倒卖，从中牟取暴利。这让普通民众的生活压力陡增，也让社会充满不平。在这样的背景下，知识分子与大学生成为要求政治改革的主要群体。1988年中共十三大曾提出“政治体制改革”的概念，但改革派与保守派的博弈让进程停滞。当胡耀邦因改革失势被迫下台、最终去世时，全国学生的悼念情绪迅速转化为对政治改革的诉求。我当时在安徽省教育学院任教。作为教师，我切身感受到教育体制的危机——教师纷纷辞职下海，教育质量下降，社会对知识分子的尊重日益减少。我们认为，如果政治体制不变，教育、社会、经济的问题都无法根本解决。因此，1989年合肥的学生运动，首先是由我们这些教育学院的教师与学生发起的。后来，我们成立了安徽省高校学生自治联合会，并带领队伍赴京，声援天安门广场的学生。
林小龙：那时的学生被认为是社会的精英，毕业即意味着体制内的稳定职位。您是否意识到参与这场运动的风险？
郑存柱：坦白说，当时没有。我们那一代人接受的是理想主义教育，从小被教导“五四精神”“学生爱国运动”，认为青年学生有责任为国家的命运发声。我们相信政府会倾听理性诉求，绝没有想到会以武力镇压。在合肥，我们学生游行持续了一个多月，全程和平有序，没有一家商店被砸、没有一块玻璃被打碎。学生甚至在十字路口协助交警维持秩序。所以当后来得知北京流血镇压时，我们都极度震惊与悲痛。六四事件改变了我对国家和体制的全部认知。
赵杰：事件之后，您受到了什么样的影响？
郑存柱：我当时被定为学校“首要分子”，受到行政记大过处分，工资降两级。相比一些被判刑的同学，这算轻的。那段时间，社会普遍陷入恐惧，许多被处分的学生无法继续学业或就业。安徽的处理还算相对宽松，因为合肥是中国科技大学所在地，当地政府对学生采取了“以教育为主”的态度。但对我个人而言，那次事件让我彻底认识到体制问题的根源，也让我走上了后来政治反思与行动的道路。
政治理念与中国民主党创建过程
赵杰：在“六四”事件之后，许多参与者都受到了处分，甚至入狱。请问郑老师，当时您为什么仍然决定继续投身政治改革？
郑存柱：那场事件让我彻底看清了问题的根源——中国的改革如果只限于经济层面，最终会陷入新的危机。政治体制改革才是关键。当年的我们，虽然年轻，但都抱有一种理想主义的信念：知识分子有责任推动社会进步。哪怕冒风险，也不能沉默。
林小龙：您后来加入了中国民主党。能否谈谈这一决定的过程？
郑存柱：中国民主党在1998年6月25日正式向浙江省民政厅递交成立申请，很快就遭到镇压。但那次事件让我看到，仍有人在坚持八九年未完成的理想。我本人是在2000年秘密加入的。当时，我已离开体制，在上海经商，拥有一定自由和资源。我与在海外的民主党组织取得联系，通过他们的渠道入党。那时候，国内的政治环境仍然高压，加入这样的组织意味着风险随时可能到来。但我认为，如果连我们这些受过高等教育、在社会上有一定地位的人都不站出来，那么中国就永远不会改变。
赵杰：加入后，您是否参与了党内的组织活动？
郑存柱：是的。我当时在上海，身边聚集了不少志同道合的人——有的来自教育界，有的在外企工作，也有在高校读研究生的朋友。我们经常私下讨论政治、举办沙龙，传播民主理念。那时互联网刚兴起，我们通过论坛、QQ群等方式联系彼此，比如“西祠胡同”“猫眼看人”等社区。很多人通过这些平台相识、交流、组织。后来，我的几位同伴因传播资料或制作民主党宣传品被捕判刑。那时我才真正意识到，这条路不会轻松。
林小龙：那么，九八年“建党”运动在您看来意味着什么？
郑存柱：我认为那是对八九运动精神的延续。许多参与创建中国民主党的人，其实都是当年的学生领袖或民运参与者。他们经历过镇压，但并没有屈服，而是希望通过合法手段推动中国政治现代化。我们并不想“推翻政权”，而是希望中共能依法承认公民有结社自由、言论自由，让国家真正回归宪法框架下的治理。
赵杰：在高压环境下坚持这些理念，需要极大勇气。是什么支撑您走到今天？
郑存柱：我始终记得天安门广场上那些牺牲的年轻人。那一夜死去的人中，很多比我还年轻，他们没有机会再为中国发声。作为幸存者，我觉得自己有责任活下去，并延续他们未完成的事业。另外，我深信教育和法治是中国未来的出路。后来我在美国重新攻读法律，希望将来能把西方法治精神与制度经验带回中国。只有当权力被法律约束，人民才真正拥有尊严。
林小龙：所以您认为，中国的转型仍然有希望？
郑存柱：有。虽然过程艰难，但每一次思想觉醒、每一次反思，都是积累的力量。中国的问题不是人民不懂民主，而是长期以来没有机会去实践它。我相信，当越来越多的人敢于发声、敢于思考，政治改革迟早会到来。
赵杰：您认为《在野党》复刊有什么重大意义？
郑存柱：《在野党》的复刊象征着海内外中国民主力量重新连结的契机。长期以来，海外民主组织与中国本土之间因环境、风险与交流受限，几乎失去实质性的对话与共同议题。而《在野党》的重新出版，使这种断裂的联系得以恢复：它不仅延续了当年海外民主运动与国内自由思想的精神纽带，也为被压抑的公共讨论重新打开了窗口。
杂志的设想是一刊两制——电子刊以海外为主，持续展现自由发声与国际倡议；纸质刊则以中国为重心，探讨国内现实与民众关切，使民主理念重新扎根本土。这种双线并行的方式，让《在野党》成为中国民主事业的“第二次阻挡”，通过思想与文字把分散的精神力量再次凝聚在一起，为未来可能的民主进程保存火种与方向。
编者按：
人这一生，总要听几段沉重的话，记几件沉下去的事。风吹过历史的墙角，有些名字被灰尘掩埋，有些声音被风带走了。但真相这东西，就像老屋檐下的石头——你不去看，它照样在那儿，裂着缝，冒着水，年年岁岁。
本期采访的受访人，他不是写史书的人，虽未曾在中共政权下经历过牢狱之灾，但却亲手翻过那一页火热又疼痛的日子。他没站在权力的戏台上，却在风口浪尖上走了半生。他说的，不是煽情的段子，也不是激愤的口号，是一个读过书、下过海、扛过压的人，对命运、对体制、对良知的慢火回望。
我们刊发这篇访谈，不为制造波澜，也不为谁鸣冤。只是觉得，这个年代，该有一些不那么热闹的声音；该有一些人，不靠高声喧哗，也敢低声坚持。郑存柱的经历，不是传奇，是现实。他的沉默与不沉默之间，藏着许多人不敢说、不能说、想说又不知该怎么说的话。
你读懂多少，就带走多少。剩下的，时间会替我们记住。
Faith Lights the Way — An Interview with Zheng Cunzhu
Interviewers: Zhao Jie, Lin Xiaolong Data Compilation: Lin Xiaolong
Editor and Proofreader: Zhang Zhijun Translator: Lyu Feng
The Persistence of Faith and the Weight of Responsibility
In the turbulent course of China’s modern political transformation, there has always been a group of people who hold ideals as their lamp and faith as their compass. Some stand firm in silence; others step forward bravely—leaving marks of their era amid the torrents of history. Zheng Cunzhu is both a witness to the upheavals of 1989 and a steadfast dreamer pursuing China’s democratic transformation. From his early career in education to his participation in street protests, from entrepreneurship to political engagement as part of China’s democratic opposition, Zheng’s life has embodied both the fractures of the times and the weight of conscience.
In this in-depth interview, Mr. Zheng reflects on the memory of 1989, analyzes the perseverance and practice of democratic ideals, and speaks candidly about his deep hopes for China’s future. Wherever he may be, one belief remains unchanged: political reform is indispensable to the rejuvenation of the nation.
From the Classroom to the Streets
Zhao Jie: Mr. Zheng, before we begin, could you briefly introduce your background to our readers? You were born in Hefei, Anhui Province, graduated from the English Department of Hefei Teachers College, and later earned a master’s degree in literature from Shanghai Normal University. In 1995, you entered the business world and founded a company. But before that, in 1989, you co-founded the Anhui Provincial University Students’ Autonomous Federation and led hundreds of students to Beijing to support the Tiananmen movement. You were even one of the student representatives who secretly negotiated with the local government. This experience is quite unique. What made you decide to take students to the streets at that time?
Zheng Cunzhu: That was 1989. The entire 1980s was a decade of intellectual vitality and rising calls for reform. Economic reform had loosened the old system, but political reform lagged behind. As Deng Xiaoping once said, “If we only reform the economy but not the political system, it’s like trying to walk on one leg—you can’t go far.” Premier Wen Jiabao later warned that without political reform to safeguard progress, economic reforms could be undone, and even a new Cultural Revolution might occur.
By the late 1980s, social contradictions were intensifying. The dual-track system—planned and market economies operating side by side—allowed officials with quota power to acquire scarce goods cheaply and resell them for huge profits. As unemployment rose and prices soared, ordinary people suffered while corruption spread.
Against this backdrop, intellectuals and students became the main advocates for political reform. The 13th Party Congress in 1988 had mentioned “political system reform,” but the power struggle between reformists and conservatives stalled the process. When Hu Yaobang—seen as a symbol of reform—was forced to step down and later died, nationwide mourning quickly turned into a collective demand for democracy.
At that time, I was teaching at Anhui Institute of Education. As a teacher, I felt the crisis in the education system—teachers were quitting en masse, educational quality was declining, and intellectuals were losing social respect. We believed that without political reform, no social or economic problem could be solved. That’s why our students and faculty took the lead in organizing the Hefei demonstrations. We later established the Anhui Provincial University Students’ Autonomous Federation and led a delegation to Beijing to support the Tiananmen students.
The Awakening After the Shock
Lin Xiaolong: At that time, college students were considered social elites, with guaranteed jobs after graduation. Did you realize the risks of joining such a movement?
Zheng Cunzhu: Honestly, no. We were raised on idealism—on stories of the May Fourth Movement and patriotic student activism. We believed the government would listen to reasoned voices. None of us imagined they would open fire.
In Hefei, our protests lasted over a month and remained entirely peaceful. No shop was looted, no window smashed. Students even helped police direct traffic. So when we heard that troops had fired on unarmed citizens in Beijing, we were devastated. June Fourth changed everything I believed about my country and its political system.
Zhao Jie: What impact did the aftermath have on you personally?
Zheng Cunzhu: I was labeled a “ringleader,” formally reprimanded, and had my salary reduced two grades. Compared to others who were imprisoned, I was lucky. But society was paralyzed by fear—many students were expelled, and graduates were blacklisted. Anhui was somewhat lenient, perhaps because Hefei is home to the University of Science and Technology of China, and local officials favored an “educational approach.” Still, that experience made me see the structural nature of China’s political problems, setting me on a path of lifelong reflection and activism.
Political Belief and the Birth of the China Democracy Party
Zhao Jie: After the crackdown, many participants faced punishment or imprisonment. Why did you continue your political engagement?
Zheng Cunzhu: Because June Fourth revealed the root of the problem—China cannot rely on economic reform alone. Political reform is the key.We felt that intellectuals have a duty to push society forward, even at personal risk. Silence is complicity.
Lin Xiaolong: You later joined the China Democracy Party (CDP). Could you describe that process?
Zheng Cunzhu: The CDP formally submitted its founding application to the Zhejiang Civil Affairs Bureau on June 25, 1998, and was immediately suppressed. But that moment rekindled the unfinished ideals of 1989.
I joined secretly in 2000. By then, I had left the public sector and was running a private business in Shanghai, which gave me some freedom and resources. Through overseas contacts, I was able to join the party. The political atmosphere was still suffocating; joining meant living with constant risk. But I felt that if educated people with stable livelihoods still chose silence, China would never change.
Zhao Jie: Were you involved in party activities afterward?
Zheng Cunzhu: Yes. In Shanghai, I connected with like-minded people—teachers, professionals, graduate students. We held private discussions, organized salons, and promoted democratic ideas. Early internet platforms like Xici Hutong and MaoYanKanRen became spaces for dialogue and organization.
Eventually, several of my friends were arrested and sentenced for distributing materials or producing CDP publications. That’s when I truly realized the price of dissent.
The Spirit of 1998
Lin Xiaolong: How do you view the 1998 founding of the CDP today?
Zheng Cunzhu: It was the spiritual continuation of 1989. Many CDP founders were former student leaders or activists from the Tiananmen era. They had faced persecution but refused to surrender. Their goal was not to overthrow the government, but to compel it to respect the constitutional rights of association and free speech—to return China to governance under its own laws.
Zhao Jie: Maintaining such beliefs under repression requires great courage. What has sustained you?
Zheng Cunzhu: I will never forget the young lives lost in Tiananmen Square. Many were younger than I was. They never got another chance to speak for China. As a survivor, I feel obliged to carry on what they began.
I also believe that education and the rule of law are China’s only path forward. Later, in the U.S., I studied law again, hoping someday to help bring legal principles and institutional experience back to China. Only when power is constrained by law can people live with dignity.
Lin Xiaolong: So, despite everything, you remain hopeful about China’s transition?
Zheng Cunzhu: Yes. Every act of reflection, every awakening, adds to the momentum. China’s problem isn’t that its people don’t understand democracy—it’s that they’ve never had the chance to practice it. I believe that as more people dare to speak and think freely, reform will eventually come.
The Revival of The Opposition Party
Zhao Jie: What do you think is the significance of The Opposition Party magazine’s revival?
Zheng Cunzhu: Its revival symbolizes the reconnection between China’s domestic and overseas democratic forces. For decades, communication between them has been severed by fear, censorship, and distance. This magazine restores that link—it continues the spirit of both overseas democracy movements and China’s intellectual awakening, reopening a window for suppressed public discourse.
Our vision is “one publication, two systems”: the digital edition will serve mainly overseas audiences, fostering free voices and international advocacy; the print edition will focus on China, exploring local realities and public concerns, helping democratic ideals take root again.Through this dual structure, The Opposition Party aims to become a “second front” for China’s democracy—preserving both intellectual fire and direction for the future.
Editor’s Note
In one’s life, there are always truths that weigh heavy and stories that sink deep. The wind sweeps across the corners of history: some names are buried in dust, some voices carried away. Yet truth endures, like a stone under an old roof—cracked, damp, but still there, year after year.
Our interviewee this issue is not a chronicler of history, nor a man who sought the spotlight of power. But he lived through the heat and pain of an era. He speaks without theatrics, without slogans—just with the quiet steadiness of one who has read, labored, and endured.
We publish this interview not to stir waves or plead for sympathy, but because every era needs quieter voices—those who do not shout, yet refuse to be silent. Zheng Cunzhu’s story is not legend, but reality. Between his silence and his speech lies the unspoken truth of many others.
Take from it what you can. The rest, time will remember for us.
