作者：于越 编辑：韩立华 校对：王滨 翻译：周敏
真正脆弱的，从来不是政权本身，而是建立在遗忘和恐惧上的统治。当一个政府连悼念死者都不允许，连烛光都要扑灭，连追问历史的人都要送进牢房，这样的政权，就已经在向世界承认它没有勇气面对自己的过去。李卓人、周幸彤、何俊仁之所以被指控，不是因为他们做了什么危险的事，而是因为他们坚持了一种最朴素的信念：历史不能被抹去，死者不应该被再次杀死于遗忘之中。
今天，被告上法庭的是他们，但真正受审的，却是“正义”这两个字。如果一个社会连公开悼念都被定性为“颠覆”，那么所谓“法治”，就只剩下一套冰冷的程序，而失去了最基本的精神内核。法律本应保障公民免受权力的侵害，而不是成为恐惧笼罩的工具。以“煽动颠覆”的名义关押为死者发声的人，只会让更多人明白：问题不在于这些公民勇敢，而在于掌权者太害怕光亮。
声援他们，并不是要推翻谁，而是要捍卫一种做人的底线：有权记住，有权悲伤，有权在公共空间讨论历史。今天，香港的烛光被强行熄灭，纪念的广场被铁栏围起，但这并不意味着记忆会终结。恰恰相反，每一次对纪念者的审判，都是对这段历史的再次提醒；每一次企图抹除记忆的举动，都会促使更多人去追问：究竟发生了什么，为什么连悼念都会怕。
愿更多人记住李卓人、周幸彤、何俊仁的名字，记住他们挺身而出的身影。支持他们，就是在捍卫一种最普通、却最珍贵的权利：面对真相，而不是在谎言中沉睡。愿有一天，人们可以在没有恐惧的夜空下，重新点起那一片烛光，让被压抑的哀悼与追问，堂堂正正地回到广场中心而不是在法庭阴影下低声诉说。
在任何一个自称文明的社会里，悼念死者，都不应该成为罪名。天安门事件中逝去的人，是真实存在的生命，是一个个被历史碾碎的个体；而那些坚持点燃烛光、为他们守住记忆的人，不应该被戴上“颠覆政权”的帽子，更不应该被送上审判席。李卓人、周幸彤、何俊仁，以及支联会多年来所做的事情，说到底，只是用和平、理性的方式，让世界不要忘记一段血写的历史——如果这都算犯罪，那么有罪的，不是他们，而是害怕真相的人。
所谓“煽动颠覆政权”，在他们身上，根本找不到暴力的影子。他们没有组织武装起义，没有鼓动仇恨，更没有号召任何人去伤害无辜。他们手里拿着的，不是武器，而是蜡烛；他们举起的，不是刀枪，而是一块写着“平反”“追究责任”“还政于民”的布条。这些诉求，也许尖锐，却绝不是毁灭国家，而是希望国家变得更公正、更有人性。在一个健康的社会里，要求真相、要求问责、要求不再重演悲剧，不应当被视为敌意，而应当被理解为对公共良知的捍卫。
写在周幸彤、李卓人、何俊仁被审判之前 2026 年 1 月 20 日
Candlelight Cannot Be Incriminated
Author: Yu Yue Editor: Han Lihua Proofreader: Wang Bin Translator: Zhou Min
What is truly fragile is never the regime itself, but a rule built on forgetting and fear. When a government does not even allow the mourning of the dead, when even candlelight must be extinguished, and when even those who question history must be sent to prison, such a regime has already admitted to the world that it lacks the courage to face its own past. The reason Lee Cheuk-yan, Chow Hang-tung, and Albert Ho are being charged is not because they did something dangerous, but because they insisted on a most simple belief: history cannot be erased, and the dead should not be killed again in forgetfulness.
Today, it is they who are brought to court, but what is truly on trial is the word “Justice.” If a society defines even public mourning as “subversion,” then the so-called “rule of law” is left with only a set of cold procedures, losing its most fundamental spiritual core. Law should protect citizens from the infringement of power, rather than becoming a tool of looming fear. To imprison those who speak for the dead in the name of “inciting subversion” only makes more people understand: the problem is not that these citizens are brave, but that those in power are too afraid of the light.
Supporting them is not about overthrowing anyone, but about defending a bottom line of being human: the right to remember, the right to grieve, and the right to discuss history in public spaces. Today, the candlelight in Hong Kong has been forcibly extinguished, and the square of commemoration has been surrounded by iron fences, but this does not mean that memory will end. On the contrary, every trial of a commemorator is a renewed reminder of that period of history; every attempt to erase memory will prompt more people to ask: what exactly happened, and why is even mourning feared?
May more people remember the names of Lee Cheuk-yan, Chow Hang-tung, and Albert Ho, and remember their figures standing forth. Supporting them is defending a most ordinary yet most precious right: to face the truth, rather than sleeping in lies. May one day, people be able to relight that field of candlelight under a night sky without fear, letting suppressed mourning and questioning return with dignity to the center of the square, rather than whispering in the shadows of the courtroom.
In any society that calls itself civilized, mourning the dead should not become a crime. The people who perished in the Tiananmen Incident are real existing lives, individual lives crushed by history; and those who insist on lighting candles and keeping memory for them should not be labeled with “subverting state power,” let alone be sent to the dock. What Lee Cheuk-yan, Chow Hang-tung, Albert Ho, and the Alliance have done over the years is, in the final analysis, simply using peaceful and rational ways to let the world not forget a history written in blood—if even this is considered a crime, then the guilty ones are not them, but those who fear the truth.
As for the so-called “inciting subversion of state power,” there is no trace of violence to be found in them. They did not organize armed uprisings, did not incite hatred, and certainly did not call on anyone to harm the innocent. What they held in their hands were not weapons, but candles; what they raised were not swords or guns, but a cloth banner reading “Vindicate,” “Seek Accountability,” and “Return Power to the People.” These demands may be sharp, but they are absolutely not about destroying the country; rather, they are the hope for the country to become more just and more humane. In a healthy society, demanding the truth, demanding accountability, and demanding that tragedy never repeats should not be seen as hostility, but should be understood as the defense of public conscience.
Written before the trial of Chow Hang-tung, Lee Cheuk-yan, and Albert Ho January 20, 2026
