——范子良先生

作者：司空先让 （来自杭州）
编辑：张宇 责任编辑：侯改英 校对：程筱筱 翻译：刘芳

我与范子良先生认识是在二十四年前，一个噩梦般的地方——浙江十里坪劳教所。

浙江十里坪劳教所位于与江西交界的衢州龙游县湖镇。

该劳教所主要是一个以压榨劳教劳动力换取出口创汇产品的地方，这里生产名牌“新力”羊毛衫，还做打火机、皮包、闹钟、玩具等运往义乌、宁波等中国著名出口地。因此劳教人员被迫每天强制劳役13小时左右，若遇出口任务加重，订单紧迫时还要连续每日加班二、三个小时。个人连续多日如完不成劳动产量就会遭受严厉惩罚。

我亲历过很惨烈的一次：一名规定时间未完成任务的劳教人员，被当众用手铐铐在工场窗户的铁栅栏上，大冬天的用冷水泼其全身再用电警棍电击其下身……他的凄厉惨叫声仿佛是从地狱里传来的！我至今想起来还是不寒而栗！

同牢房一位人称“汤圆儿”的杭州人，老汤曾打人致重伤被判刑劳改6年。刑满释放后，染上毒瘾被送到这十里坪劳教三年，大家都叫他“汤圆儿”。老汤的真名大家记不得了。我与老汤都是杭州人，聊天也比较多一点，他告诉我，“宁坐10年劳改，也不坐3年劳教”。老汤说，劳改多少还有点章法，没有这么长时间的劳作也很少这样明目张胆地毒打责罚犯人的。可见劳教是多么的恐怖！

当年我以“煽动颠覆国家政权罪”被判劳教的，与范子良先生关在同一个劳教队，只是不同一个小队，不过小队与小队之间是紧挨着的。起初我不认识范子良先生，但在放风时从这么多的老年囚徒中我发觉这老人气质举止不同于其他老人囚徒，他举止从容、气质沉稳，在人群中非常显眼。于是我就特别关注这位老人，时值寒冬我进劳教所正好是一月份冬季，十里坪冬季又特别冷，一天我目睹“笼头”（劳教所里的犯人管理头目）秉承管教的旨意在惩罚这位老人，让他赤着双脚站在冰冷的水泥地上强制面壁思过（这里已算“轻罚”了，重的足以让噩梦终身）。

过后我向“笼头”打听这位老人的来历，“笼头”说他是“法轮功”，后来我才知道，“笼头”们有意或无意把我们这些人都叫“法轮功”，“煽动颠覆国家政权罪”这么一串词，对“笼头”来说，可能不理解或是嫌麻烦，干脆就叫我们法轮功了。之后我慢慢向“笼头”解释，“煽动颠覆国家政权罪”的来龙去脉，“笼头”才有所悟，逐渐分辨我们的所谓“罪名”。

不过当时我确实以为这老人是法轮功，因为那时这个劳教所关的大多数是法轮功和吸毒人员……

真正让我了解范老先生身份的，某天在操场放风时，这位老人左右环顾了一下，然后悄悄地问我，你知道王有才吗？随后又提到一些当时比较有影响的异见人士。我一听马上就明白了，这位老人他与我一样，是政治犯，而不是所谓的的“法轮功”，是和我同样的罪名进来的。他的名字叫——范子良。也在那一牢牢记在心里。从此我们就成了忘年交和亦师亦友的挚友了！

在十里坪劳教所那段黑暗的日子里，范子良先生不仅是我的忘年挚友，更是我的精神支柱。因为有共同的政见和价值观，随后我们相谈甚欢，更是在艰难的牢狱生活中相互鼓励和帮扶。甚至在“六四”这天我们会不约而同地绝食一天来纪念“六四”，从此他成为了我的挚友更是在精神上成为引领我的老师……

范子良先生是浙江湖州菱湖人，曾供职于上海铁路局（后退休），他为人真诚正直，不阿权贵。早年曾因独持已见，仗义执言深受中共极左派迫害。“六四”期间，范子良先生在一次集会上公开宣布退党并焚毁党证。从此，范子良先生转身投入中国政治变革推进与民主运动。他积极撰写文章，并在当时信息传播工具十分有限的艰苦条件下，不辞辛劳亲自誊写抄录几百份境外媒体文稿发放寄送给朋友和读者。同时范子良先生还主动承担起与境外媒体人卢思清、洪哲胜等的联络工作——在当年互联网不发达的背景下，能及时将国内异议人士遭迫害的信息向境外传递出去是一件非常不易和担风险的事情。

范子良先生亦多次参与声援行动，积极参与签名呼吁关注受当局迫害的民运人士行动……

范先生为推动社会进步，以一介平民之身，甘尽「社会进步，匹夫之责」的信念。这其中仅仅因为捍卫传播民主价值理念，竟先后十多次遭到當地公安机关的非法传訊与抄家，个人财产，财产损失仅电脑就被当地国保前后抄走8台至今未还。他也从一个曾是退伍军人、中共党员的人变成了一位为全民争取自由民主的斗士，即便如此范子良先生依然谦逊得称自己只是给民运事业“跑龙套”的。他曾在个人博客里这样写道：“

古装舞台戏时常常看到主角（元帅、将军）出场前有 4 个（或多个，一般应该是双数）人扛着大旗，口中吆喝着绕舞台一周，然后站在两边，等待主角亮相。主角亮相完毕，坐在太师椅上，这几位抗大旗的就站到主角身后。他们自始至终没有一句台词，也没有一点面部表情。如果说他们无足轻重可有可无那也不见得，因为真的少了他们这出戏就不热闹了，元帅将军们没有气魄威风了。我想，要演好这出民主大戏同样也少不了千百个跑龙套的，像我这样的年龄、能力最适合担当“跑龙套”的角色。”

由于范子良先生在监狱里受到种种身心的折磨，吃的都是存放好几年之久的“战备粮”，霉变得连猪都不吃的米，拿来给我们这些“犯人”吃。

范子良先生出狱后先后得过两次大病，一次是胃癌，一次是皮肤癌。

很显然这些病与监狱里的非人待遇有直接和间接的关系……

然而，由于他曾在中共监狱中遭受过蓄意非人的摧残，被迫食用霉变“战备粮”，劣质到连猪都不吃。出狱后先后患上胃癌与皮肤癌，这些疾病显然与监狱中的身心摧残有间接乃至直接的关系。

值得庆幸的是，范子良先生勇敢地挺过了牢狱之灾，也躲过了病魔带来的厄运！

前几天，我到湖州看望了范子良先生，先生面色红润，精神矍铄，我由衷地感到欣慰！

如今，范子良老先生虽已89岁的高龄了，却依然关注着中国民运事业的发展。

范子良先生已是耄耋之年，先生最大的愿望，就是在有生之年能看到自由民主在中国实现！

在此谨向在为民运事业默默无闻“跑龙套”的范子良老先生致敬！

杭州 司空先让

2025年10月23日

In Memory of a “Supporting Actor” in the Democracy Movement — Mr. Fan Ziliang

Author: Sikong Xianrang (from Hangzhou)
Editor: Zhang Yu Executive Editor: Hou Gaiying Proofreading: Cheng Xiaoxiao Translator: Liu Fang

Abstract: This article records how the author, Sikong Xianrang, met Mr. Fan Ziliang in Zhejiang and recounts Fan’s lifelong dedication to the Chinese democracy movement.

I first met Mr. Fan Ziliang twenty-four years ago, in a nightmare-like place—the Shiliping Re-education-through-Labor Camp in Zhejiang Province.

Shiliping Camp sat in Lake Town, Longyou County, near the border between Zhejiang and Jiangxi.It was essentially a factory that exploited detainees to produce export goods: the well-known “Xinli” wool sweaters, as well as lighters, bags, alarm clocks, toys, and other products shipped to Yiwu, Ningbo, and other major export hubs. Detainees were forced to work approximately thirteen hours a day. When export orders piled up, the daily hours extended by another two or three. Anyone who failed to meet the quota for several consecutive days would be brutally punished.

I once witnessed a horrifying scene: A man who didn’t meet his quota was handcuffed to iron bars on a workshop window. In the freezing winter cold, guards poured cold water over him and shocked him with electric batons on his genitals. His screams were like something torn out of hell. To this day, the memory chills me to the bone.

In my cell lived a man nicknamed “Tangyuan,” from Hangzhou. He once severely injured someone and served six years in prison. After release, he fell into drug addiction and was sent to Shiliping for another three years of re-education. Everyone simply called him “Tangyuan.” He once told me, “I’d rather serve ten years of prison than three years of re-education-through-labor.” He said prison, for all its cruelty, still had some rules; it did not enforce such endless labor, nor did it beat people so openly and savagely. His words revealed just how terrifying the laojiao system truly was.

I was sent to Shiliping for the so-called crime of “inciting subversion of state power.” Mr. Fan and I were held in the same labor brigade, though not the same small squad. At first, I didn’t know him. But during the short breaks outdoors, among so many elderly detainees, he stood out immediately—calm, dignified, unbowed. His manner was unlike the others. One bitterly cold day, I saw a “cage head” (a prisoner-appointed overseer acting on the guards’ orders) force this elderly man to stand barefoot on freezing concrete, facing the wall—considered a “light punishment.” The heavier ones were unspeakable.

Later I asked the cage head who he was. “He’s Falun Gong,” the overseer answered. But I later realized that the overseers called all political detainees “Falun Gong,” because the term “inciting subversion of state power” was too long, too obscure, and too bothersome for them to remember.

One day during the outdoor break, the elderly man glanced around cautiously, then quietly asked me, “Do you know Wang Youcai?” He went on to mention several other well-known dissidents of the time. The moment I heard this, I understood—this man was not Falun Gong, but a political prisoner like me. His name was Fan Ziliang. From that moment on, his name was engraved in my memory. We became not only friends across generations, but also comrades-in-spirit.

During those dark days in Shiliping, Mr. Fan became my emotional anchor. Sharing the same political ideals, we encouraged each other. On every anniversary of June Fourth, we would silently conduct a one-day hunger strike inside the camp to honor the victims of Tiananmen. Over time, he became both my close friend and my mentor.

Mr. Fan was born in Linghu, Huzhou, Zhejiang. He once worked for the Shanghai Railway Bureau and later retired. Honest, upright, and never deferential to power, he was persecuted by ultra-left authorities in earlier decades simply for speaking his mind. During the 1989 Tiananmen movement, he publicly announced his resignation from the Chinese Communist Party at a rally and burned his Party membership card. From then on, he devoted himself fully to advocating for political reform and democracy in China. He wrote extensively and tirelessly copied and mailed hundreds of essays from overseas media to friends and readers at a time when information transmission inside China was nearly impossible. He also served as a volunteer liaison with overseas activists such as Lu Siching and Hong Zheshen—an extremely risky task before the age of the internet.

Mr. Fan also participated in numerous signature campaigns and public appeals to support persecuted democracy activists.

He bore the burden of social responsibility with the conviction that “every citizen shares responsibility for the progress of society.” For promoting democratic values, he was interrogated and had his home raided more than ten times. Among the items confiscated by state security were eight computers, none of which were ever returned. He went from a former PLA soldier and Party member to a democracy activist working for the rights of all citizens. Yet he always described himself humbly as merely someone “running supporting roles” in the democracy movement. He once wrote on his blog:

“In traditional Chinese opera, before the general or marshal enters the stage, four (sometimes more) men carry large flags, shouting as they circle the stage. They then stand behind the lead actor. They have no lines, no expression. But without them, the scene would lose its grandeur. The democracy movement also needs hundreds and thousands of such ‘supporting actors.’ At my age and with my abilities, I am best suited to carrying those flags.”

Because of the torture and subhuman treatment in the labor camp, detainees were fed years-old military “reserve grain”—rice so moldy that even pigs would refuse it. After his release, Mr. Fan suffered two major illnesses: stomach cancer and then skin cancer. There is no doubt that these were linked—directly or indirectly—to the abuse he endured in custody.

Fortunately, Mr. Fan survived both imprisonment and illness.

Just days ago, I traveled to Huzhou to visit him. He looked energetic and healthy. My heart filled with relief and gratitude.

Now 89 years old, Mr. Fan still follows the progress of China’s democracy movement with unwavering commitment.

His greatest wish—the wish of a lifetime—is to see freedom and democracy realized in China.

Here, I offer my deepest respect to Mr. Fan Ziliang, one of the countless “supporting actors” who have silently carried the flags of the democracy movement.

HangzhouSikong XianrangOctober 23, 2025