——中共非法人体器官移植的滔天罪行
作者：李聪玲 编辑：张致君 校对：程筱筱 翻译：周敏
在一个正常社会，婴儿死于手术台、学生死于校园，都会引发彻底、独立且透明的调查；死亡本身虽不可逆，但至少真相能够被还原，责任能够被追究，制度能够被反思。然而在当下的中国，这样的期待几乎注定落空。取而代之的，往往是统一口径的官方通报、迅速消失的网络讨论，以及以“维稳”为核心目标的强力压制。死亡并未带来真相，只带来了更深的沉默。
2025年底发生的“宁波小洛熙”事件，与2026年初河南新蔡中学生在校突然死亡事件，表面看似两起彼此无关的“个案悲剧”，却在处理方式、舆论控制和权力反应上呈现出高度一致的模式。当这两起事件被放入一个更宏大的现实背景中加以审视，即中共政权长期被国际社会指控、却始终拒绝接受独立调查的非法人体器官移植体系，所谓的“偶发”“巧合”便显得愈发站不住脚。这并非阴谋论，而是一个由权力垄断、信息封锁与生命物化所构成的制度性结构。
小洛熙是一名年仅五个月大的女婴。根据医院方面的说法，她所接受的是一项“技术成熟、风险可控、成功率较高”的心脏手术。然而，手术结束后不久，这个尚未开始理解世界的生命便永远停止了呼吸。真正引发社会震动的，并不仅是婴儿的死亡本身，而是医院及相关主管部门在事后表现出的高度防御姿态：关键医疗信息披露前后矛盾，家属获取完整病历和影像资料困难重重，官方通报反复修改乃至下架，网络舆论迅速被引导至“理性看待”“避免网暴医生”等方向。
在一个真正以生命为核心价值的医疗体系中，婴儿术后死亡理应自动触发最高等级的独立调查机制，调查过程应当对家属与社会保持透明。然而在中国，调查由谁主导、专家由谁遴选、结论由谁发布，始终指向同一个权力中心。当权力既是裁判者，又是潜在责任方的保护者，所谓“专业结论”便难以获得基本的公信力。
几乎与此同时，河南新蔡发生了一起同样令人不安的事件。一名十三岁的中学生被发现死于校园之内。官方很快给出了高度标准化的通报：排除刑事案件，排除中毒，排除外力伤害，最终结论为“心源性猝死”。这种表述在近年来的类似事件中反复出现，几乎已形成固定模板。然而，与官方叙述并行流传的，是大量来自现场目击者和家属的疑问：遗体处置是否过于仓促？家属是否在第一时间被完整告知情况？为何现场警力高度戒备？为何网络讨论迅速被清理？这些问题并未得到令人信服的公开回应。
在当下中国的政治语境中，“心源性猝死”早已不只是一个医学术语，而更像是一种政治语言。它所传递的信息并非解释死亡原因，而是划定讨论边界：不许追问，不许怀疑，不许扩散。问题并不在于青少年是否存在医学上猝死的可能性，而在于为什么每当死亡涉及未成年人、涉及身体异常、涉及潜在责任争议时，最终都必然落入这一“万能结论”。当解释本身被制度化地用于终止追问，它便失去了科学应有的意义。
如果将这些事件仅仅视为零星事故，或许仍有人愿意诉诸概率与偶然性进行辩解。但当我们把视角进一步拉远，一个无法回避的现实浮现出来：中国是当今世界上器官移植数量长期居高不下的国家之一，却始终无法建立一个透明、可核查、符合医学伦理的自愿捐献体系。其器官移植等待时间之短，公然违背国际医学常识；其官方数据在不同年份、不同场合反复自相矛盾；其制度设计拒绝任何真正独立的国际核查。
这一问题并非来自“敌对势力”的政治攻击，而是源自国际医学界、人权组织以及独立法律机构多年来持续、系统的质疑。2019年，位于伦敦的“独立人民法庭”（China Tribunal）在长时间听证后作出裁定：在中国，强摘器官行为已经发生，并且在相当程度上仍在持续。该裁定所指向的受害者群体，主要包括良心犯、政治犯以及被系统性剥夺权利、无法有效发声的人群。正是在这一背景下，婴儿、未成年人以及社会最弱势者所处的位置显得格外危险。他们无法拒绝、无法抗辩、无法动员公共资源为自己争取权利。当权力系统对生命缺乏根本敬畏，而社会监督又被全面压制时，身体便可能被还原为“资源”，器官则成为可被调配的“物件”。
非法器官移植并非个别医生的道德失范，而是一项高度依赖制度配合的国家级犯罪工程。它至少需要三个前提条件：其一，对生命的彻底物化。在极权体制下，个人不是权利主体，而是被管理、被计算、被牺牲的对象；其二，全流程的信息封闭。从医院到公安，从司法到媒体，形成一条不允许外部监督的链条，真相不是被驳倒，而是被删除；其三，对家属与公众的系统性恐吓。维权被定性为“闹事”，追问被指控为“造谣”，沉默因此成为许多人的生存策略。
有人或许会反驳说，无法直接证明小洛熙或新蔡中学生之死与器官移植存在关联。然而，这恰恰暴露了问题的核心：在一个自称“法治国家”的社会里，为什么公民必须先证明自己没有遭受犯罪，才有资格要求调查？在真正的法治体系中，疑点本身就足以启动独立审查；而在中国，疑点却被视为对政权权威的挑战。当一个政权拒绝公开完整数据、拒绝国际医学核查、拒绝独立尸检、拒绝媒体监督时，它实际上已经放弃了自证清白的资格。非法人体器官移植的本质，并非技术问题，而是对“人”这一概念的否定。它意味着国家可以决定谁的生命具有价值，谁可以被牺牲；意味着身体可以被拆解、分配乃至交易；意味着法律不再是保护生命的屏障，而成为权力运作的工具。这正是国际法所界定的反人类罪的核心特征。
当一个政权可以在手术台上让婴儿无声死去，可以在校园里制造无法追问的死亡，它所犯下的，早已不是“管理失误”，而是系统性的道德崩塌。小洛熙没有机会长大，新蔡的孩子没有机会为自己辩护。他们的名字，正在被算法淹没，被通报覆盖，被时间抹去。
但记住他们，并不是为了沉溺于悲伤，而是为了拒绝成为下一个被轻易解释、被迅速遗忘的数字。因为历史一再证明：当一个政权可以随意解释死亡，它也就随时可以制造死亡。对中共非法人体器官移植体系的谴责，不是政治立场之争，而是人类文明的底线问题。追问这些孩子的死亡，不是煽动情绪，而是对未来最基本的守护。
Scalpels and the Silent Campus
— The Monstrous Crimes of the CCP’s Illegal Human Organ Transplanting
Abstract: The deaths of Little Luoxi and the student in Xincai reveal that under information blockades and the monopoly of power, deaths are swiftly characterized and inquiries are suppressed. Combined with long-standing questions regarding illegal organ transplantation, this reflects a systemic institutional crime of the objectification of life.
Author: Li Congling Editor: Zhang Zhijun Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao Translator: Zhou Min
In a normal society, the death of an infant on an operating table or a student on campus would trigger a thorough, independent, and transparent investigation. Although death itself is irreversible, at the very least, the truth could be restored, responsibility could be pursued, and the system could be reflected upon. However, in present-day China, such expectations are almost certainly bound to fail. Replacing them are usually official bulletins with a unified narrative, internet discussions that disappear rapidly, and powerful suppression with “maintaining stability” as the core goal. Death has not brought truth; it has only brought deeper silence.
The “Ningbo Little Luoxi” incident that occurred at the end of 2025 and the sudden death of a middle school student at a school in Xincai, Henan at the beginning of 2026 appear on the surface to be two unrelated “individual tragedies.” Yet, they present a highly consistent pattern in their handling methods, public opinion control, and power reactions. When these two incidents are placed within a grander realistic context for scrutiny—namely, the illegal human organ transplant system for which the CCP regime has long been accused by the international community but has consistently refused to accept independent investigations—the so-called “accidents” and “coincidences” appear increasingly untenable. This is not a conspiracy theory, but an institutional structure composed of a monopoly of power, information blockades, and the objectification of life.
Little Luoxi was an infant only five months old. According to the hospital’s statement, she underwent a cardiac surgery described as “mature in technology, controllable in risk, and high in success rate.” However, shortly after the surgery ended, this life, which had not yet begun to understand the world, stopped breathing forever. What truly triggered social shock was not just the infant’s death itself, but the highly defensive posture displayed by the hospital and relevant departments afterward: the disclosure of key medical information was contradictory; the family faced numerous difficulties in obtaining complete medical records and imaging data; official bulletins were repeatedly revised or even taken down; and online public opinion was swiftly guided toward directions such as “viewing it rationally” and “avoiding cyberbullying against doctors.”
In a medical system that truly holds life as its core value, the death of an infant after surgery should automatically trigger the highest level of independent investigation mechanism, and the investigation process should remain transparent to the family and society. However, in China, who leads the investigation, who selects the experts, and who releases the conclusions always point to the same center of power. When power is both the referee and the protector of the potential liable party, so-called “professional conclusions” find it difficult to obtain basic public credibility.
Almost simultaneously, a similarly disturbing incident occurred in Xincai, Henan. A thirteen-year-old middle school student was found dead inside the school campus. The authorities quickly gave a highly standardized bulletin: excluding criminal cases, excluding poisoning, excluding external injury, and the final conclusion was “sudden cardiac death.” This phrasing has repeatedly appeared in similar incidents in recent years, almost forming a fixed template. However, circulating alongside the official narrative are a large number of questions from witnesses at the scene and family members: was the disposal of the remains too hasty? Was the family fully informed of the situation at the first opportunity? Why was there high police alertness at the scene? Why were online discussions quickly purged? These questions have not received convincing public responses.
In the current political context of China, “sudden cardiac death” has long been more than just a medical term; it is more like a political language. The information it conveys is not an explanation of the cause of death, but the drawing of a boundary for discussion: no questioning allowed, no doubting allowed, no spreading allowed. The issue does not lie in whether there is a medical possibility of sudden death in adolescents, but in why, whenever a death involves minors, bodily abnormalities, or potential liability disputes, it inevitably falls into this “universal conclusion.” When explanation itself is used institutionally to terminate inquiry, it loses the meaning that science ought to have.
If these incidents are viewed merely as scattered accidents, perhaps some would still be willing to resort to probability and randomness for defense. But when we pull the perspective further back, an unavoidable reality emerges: China is one of the countries in the world where the number of organ transplants has long remained high, yet it has consistently failed to establish a transparent, verifiable voluntary donation system that complies with medical ethics. The shortness of its organ transplant waiting times openly violates international medical common sense; its official data repeatedly contradict themselves across different years and occasions; its institutional design refuses any truly independent international audit.
This issue does not come from political attacks by “hostile forces,” but originates from years of continuous and systematic questioning by the international medical community, human rights organizations, and independent legal institutions. In 2019, the London-based “China Tribunal,” after long-term hearings, issued a judgment: in China, the practice of forced organ harvesting has occurred and continues to a substantial extent. The victim groups pointed to by the judgment mainly include prisoners of conscience, political prisoners, and populations who are systematically deprived of their rights and unable to speak out effectively. It is within this context that the positions of infants, minors, and the most vulnerable in society appear exceptionally dangerous. They cannot refuse, cannot plead, and cannot mobilize public resources to fight for their rights. When the power system lacks fundamental reverence for life and social supervision is comprehensively suppressed, the body can be reduced to a “resource,” and organs become “objects” that can be allocated.
Illegal organ transplantation is not a moral lapse of individual doctors, but a national-level criminal project that highly depends on institutional cooperation. It requires at least three prerequisites: first, the total objectification of life. Under a totalitarian system, the individual is not a subject of rights, but an object to be managed, calculated, and sacrificed; second, an all-process information closure. From hospitals to public security, from the judiciary to the media, a chain is formed that allows no external supervision—truth is not refuted, it is deleted; third, systematic intimidation of families and the public. Rights protection is characterized as “making trouble,” and questioning is accused of “spreading rumors”; thus, silence becomes a survival strategy for many.
Some might argue that it is impossible to directly prove a link between the deaths of Little Luoxi or the Xincai student and organ transplantation. However, this is precisely what exposes the core of the problem: in a society that calls itself a “country under the rule of law,” why must citizens first prove they have not suffered a crime before being qualified to demand an investigation? In a true system of the rule of law, suspicion itself is sufficient to initiate an independent review; but in China, suspicion is regarded as a challenge to the regime’s authority. When a regime refuses to disclose complete data, refuses international medical audits, refuses independent autopsies, and refuses media supervision, it has in fact forfeited its qualification to prove its own innocence. The essence of illegal human organ transplantation is not a technical issue, but a denial of the concept of “man.” It means the state can decide whose life has value and who can be sacrificed; it means the body can be dismantled, allocated, and even traded; it means the law is no longer a barrier protecting life, but becomes a tool for the operation of power. This is exactly the core feature of crimes against humanity as defined by international law.
When a regime can let an infant die silently on an operating table and can manufacture deaths on campus that cannot be questioned, what it has committed is no longer a “management error,” but a systemic moral collapse. Little Luoxi did not have the chance to grow up; the child in Xincai did not have the chance to defend themselves. Their names are being submerged by algorithms, covered by bulletins, and erased by time.
But remembering them is not for the sake of wallowing in sadness, but for refusing to become the next digit that is easily explained away and quickly forgotten. Because history has proven time and again: when a regime can arbitrarily explain death, it can manufacture death at any time. The condemnation of the CCP’s illegal human organ transplantation system is not a dispute over political positions, but a question of the bottom line of human civilization. Questioning the deaths of these children is not inciting emotion, but the most basic safeguard for the future.
