作者：孔德翠
编辑：Geoffrey Jin 校对：程筱筱 翻译：彭小梅
这个世界，需要勇敢的人。
刘虎是我十多年的微信好友。巫英蛟是他的合作者，也是我多年的微信好友。认识他们的人都知道，他们一直在为普通人发声。在很多人选择沉默的时候，他们选择记录；在很多人退后的时候，他们站了出来。有人称刘虎为“国内最后的调查记者”。这不是一个荣耀的头衔，而是一种沉重的现实：当正常履行新闻职责，变成一种稀缺品质；当说出事实，需要付出失去自由的代价；这个社会本身，就已出了问题。
我常常想起多年前，在深圳的一个下雨的夜晚。一名年轻人摔倒在马路中央。车灯刺眼，雨水混着泥水，街头的人行色匆匆，却没有一个人敢上前。那是中国经济最繁华、最“文明”的城市之一，可那一刻，恐惧比冷漠更真实。我冲了过去，把他扶了起来。很快，有人看到我这样做，才开始陆续加入。我们把他抬到路边，拨打了急救电话。
事情结束后，我才发现自己浑身发抖，手心全是汗。我明明知道自己在做对的事，却依然害怕——害怕被误解，害怕被讹，害怕所谓的“后果”。
后来我把这件事告诉了刘虎。他只对我说了一句话：“你很勇敢，别担心，应该没事的。”
这句话，我一直记得。勇敢，从来不是不害怕，而是明明知道风险存在，依然选择站出来。
前几天，听到刘虎再次被捕的消息，我感到震惊，也感到一种熟悉的悲伤。朋友们半夜发来消息，说他“又被抓了”。“又”这个字，本身就令人心寒。刘虎曾在2013年因调查报道被长期羁押，最终无罪。那一刻，很多人以为这是法治进步的信号。可今天，历史并没有向前，而是在倒退——同样的事情，再一次发生。巫英蛟长期关注法治与公共利益议题，通过自媒体发布深度调查内容，与多位记者合作，揭示地方权力的黑箱运作。也正因为如此，他被带走、被噤声、被警告。
他们并不是“危险人物”。真正被视为危险的，是真相本身。
当纪检系统取代司法程序；当警力凌驾于法律之上；当写作、调查、记录被定性为“罪行”。我们失去的，不只是几个记者，而是一个社会最基本的自我纠错能力。
没有舆论监督的权力，必然走向失控；没有表达自由的社会，只剩下恐惧与沉默。
但我依然相信一件事：真相不会因为抓捕而消失，自由也不会因为恐吓而终结。这个社会，正是因为还有像刘虎、巫英蛟这样的人，才没有彻底失去对良知的信任。
这个世界，需要勇敢的人。
写作无罪，记录无罪，说出事实无罪。如果连记录现实的人都要付出自由的代价，
那么沉默，才会成为真正被强迫的“共识”。
Liu Hu, We Support You!
Author: Kong Decui
Editor: Geoffrey Jin Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao Translator: Peng Xiaomei
Liu Hu has been my WeChat friend for more than a decade. Wu Yingjiao is his collaborator and has also been my WeChat friend for many years. Those who know them understand that they have always spoken up for ordinary people. When many chose silence, they chose to record. When many stepped back, they stepped forward. Some call Liu Hu “the last investigative journalist in China.” This is not a title of glory, but a heavy reality: when carrying out normal journalistic duties becomes a rare quality; when speaking the truth requires the price of losing one’s freedom; then the society itself is already in trouble.
I often recall a rainy night many years ago in Shenzhen. A young man fell in the middle of the road. The headlights were blinding, rain mixed with mud, and pedestrians hurried past—yet no one dared to step forward. It was one of China’s most prosperous and “civilized” cities, but in that moment, fear was more real than indifference. I rushed over and helped him up. Soon, after others saw me doing so, they began to join in. We carried him to the roadside and called for emergency assistance.
After it was over, I realized I was trembling all over, my palms drenched in sweat. I knew I had done the right thing, yet I was still afraid—afraid of being misunderstood, afraid of being falsely accused, afraid of the so-called “consequences.”
Later, I told Liu Hu about it. He said only one sentence to me: “You are very brave. Don’t worry. It should be fine.”
I have always remembered those words. Courage is never the absence of fear but knowing the risks and still choosing to stand up.
A few days ago, when I heard the news that Liu Hu had been arrested again, I felt shocked—and a familiar sorrow. Friends sent messages late at night saying he had “been detained again.” The word “again” itself is chilling. Liu Hu was previously detained for a long time in 2013 because of investigative reporting and was ultimately found not guilty. At that time, many believed it signaled progress in the rule of law. But today, history has not moved forward—it is retreating. The same thing has happened once more.
Wu Yingjiao has long focused on issues of rule of law and public interest, publishing in-depth investigative content through self-media platforms and collaborating with multiple journalists to expose the black-box operations of local power. For precisely this reason, he has been taken away, silenced, and warned.
They are not “dangerous individuals.” What is truly considered dangerous is the truth itself.
When disciplinary inspection systems replace judicial procedures; when police power overrides the law; when writing, investigation, and documentation are labeled as “crimes”—what we lose is not merely a few journalists, but the most basic capacity of a society to correct itself.
Power without public oversight inevitably runs out of control. A society without freedom of expression is left only with fear and silence.
But I still believe one thing: truth does not disappear because of arrests, and freedom does not end because of intimidation. It is precisely because there are still people like Liu Hu and Wu Yingjiao that this society has not completely lost its trust in conscience.
This world needs brave people.
Writing is not a crime. Recording is not a crime. Speaking the truth is not a crime.
If those who document reality must pay for it with their freedom, then silence will become the only “consensus” imposed upon us.
