作者：张宇    

很多中国人第一次踏上异国土地的时候，都会有一种相似的感觉。飞机落地的那一刻，仿佛终于穿过了一道无形的墙。

从此不再需要翻墙看新闻，不再需要担心朋友圈里哪句话会被举报，不再需要在发言之前反复斟酌哪些词能说、哪些词不能说。许多人相信，只要离开中国，专制的阴影就会停留在过境线的另一边；只要身处民主国家，自由便会成为理所当然的空气。

然而，越来越多的海外华人发现，现实并非如此。

有的人参加了一场和平集会活动，几天后，国内父母接到派出所电话；

有的人在社交媒体上发表对中国共产党的批评文章，随后亲属被社区工作人员上门“了解情况”；

有的人在接受媒体采访，公开谈论人权、民主和自由，结果家乡的亲人被国安局约谈；

还有的人只是转发了一条敏感新闻，便遭遇网络骚扰、账号举报、匿名威胁，甚至工作和学业受到影响。

他们身在美国、加拿大、英国、澳大利亚，甚至已经取得当地公民的身份，但一种熟悉的恐惧却从未真正离开。

这种恐惧并非来自所在国家政府，而是来自数千公里之外的北京。

这正是中国共产党近年来不断扩张的一种权力形式——跨国镇压。

它不再满足于控制中国境内的声音，而是试图将审查、监控、恐吓和政治压迫延伸到海外。对于中共而言，国界并不是权力的边界，只是权力投射的起点。它希望所有中国人，无论身处北京、上海，还是纽约、伦敦、悉尼，都能够感受到同一种压力：不要说不该说的话，不要做不该做的事，不要挑战中国共产党的一切事务。

于是，一个极其荒诞的现实出现了。

当海外华人在民主国家享有法律赋予的言论自由时，却仍然要担心国内家人的安全；

当他们拥有集会和抗议的权利时，却仍然害怕被拍照、被记录、被列入某种看不见的名单；

当他们终于获得公开表达观点的空间时，却发现中国共产党仍然试图决定哪些话可以说，哪些话必须沉默。

这种现象已经远远超出了普通意义上的政治影响力。

它是一种跨越国界的恐吓，一种针对海外华人社群的政治控制，也是一种对民主国家主权和法治原则的直接挑战。

因为一个外国政府如果能够在别国领土上制造寒蝉效应，能够通过骚扰、威胁和监控压制当地居民的言论自由，那么受到侵蚀的就不仅仅是个体权利，而是整个自由社会赖以存在的制度基础。

中国共产党长期宣称自己尊重国家主权，反对外国干涉内政。但当它试图把自己的审查制度、维稳逻辑和政治恐惧输出到世界各地的时候，它正在做的，恰恰是对其他国家主权最直接的侵犯。

因此，跨国镇压从来不是海外中国人的私人困境，它是一场正在发生的国际政治问题。它关乎自由，关乎法治，关乎一个专制政权是否有权把自己的恐惧输出到全世界。

更关乎一个根本的问题：当一个人离开中国之后，他是否仍然有权真正成为一个自由的人。

中国共产党为什么要把镇压延伸到海外？

很多人认为，中国共产党之所以关注海外异议人士，是因为害怕反对声音。

但事实上，这只说对了一半。

中国共产党真正害怕的，从来不是批评本身，而是那些脱离了它控制范围的中国人。在中国境内，共产党拥有庞大的维稳体系。它控制媒体，审查网络，监控通讯，管理出版，限制集会，打压异议。通过几十年的高压治理，它已经建立起一套几乎覆盖社会每一个角落的控制网络。

然而，一旦有人离开中国，这套体系便出现了裂缝。

当一个中国人身处纽约、伦敦、多伦多或悉尼的时候，他第一次拥有了过去从未拥有过的东西——不受审查的信息环境。他可以阅读被屏蔽的历史资料；可以接触不同的政治观点；可以公开批评执政党而不用担心警察敲门；可以参加集会，可以接受采访，可以自由表达自己的立场。

对普通人来说，这叫自由。

对于中国共产党来说，这叫失控。

因为极权统治最核心的基础，从来不是武力，而是信息垄断。

共产党能够长期维持统治，并不仅仅依靠警察、监狱和摄像头，更依靠对现实解释权的掌控。它决定什么是历史；决定什么是真相；决定什么能够被讨论；决定什么必须被遗忘。

而海外华人的存在，恰恰打破了这一切。一个生活在民主国家的中国人，既了解中国社会，又拥有自由表达的空间。他能够用中文传播信息；能够向国内亲友讲述不同的观点；能够把被掩盖的事实重新带回中文世界。从某种意义上说，他成为了一座连接自由与封闭世界的桥梁。而这正是中国共产党最不能容忍的事情。

因为对于一个依赖信息控制的政权而言，最危险的不是外国政府，不是国际媒体，甚至不是街头抗议。最危险的，是一个会说中文、了解中国、又不再害怕的人。

这也是为什么中共长期以来不断试图把自己的控制力延伸到海外。它害怕的不仅仅是某个异议人士发表文章，它害怕的是这些文章被更多中国人看见；它害怕的不仅仅是一场抗议活动，它害怕的是有人发现，原来中国人也可以公开反对政府而不被逮捕；它害怕的不仅仅是一段视频，它害怕的是视频背后所代表的事实——共产党并不是不可批评的，权力也不是不可质疑的。

对于民主社会来说，这些都是再正常不过的公民权利。但对于中国共产党来说，它们意味着一种致命威胁：中国人开始意识到，除了共产党讲述的世界之外，还存在另一种可能。

因此，跨国镇压的本质，并不是简单的政治报复。

它是一场针对思想的围堵。

共产党试图通过骚扰、恐吓、监控和施压，让那些已经身处自由世界的人，继续按照中国国内的规则生活。它希望你人在美国，但思想仍然停留在防火墙里；它希望你拥有言论自由，但永远不敢使用它；它希望你能够看到真相，却不敢把真相说出来。换句话说，它希望把中国变成一种随身携带的监狱。而这恰恰暴露了中国共产党最深层的不安全感。

一个真正自信的政权，不会害怕自己的公民出国。

一个真正稳固的制度，不会害怕人们接触不同观点。

更不会因为几篇文章、几场集会、几条社交媒体发言，就动用庞大的国家机器进行追踪和打压。

只有那些建立在谎言之上的统治，才会如此恐惧自由。

因为它知道，一旦人们开始自由思考，开始比较不同制度，开始独立判断是非，那么权利长期精心构建的神话，就可能在一夜之间崩塌。

因此，跨国镇压从来不只是针对某一个人。

它针对的是自由本身。

它试图告诉所有离开中国的人：即使你跨越了国界，也不要试图跨越恐惧。

对于许多离开中国的人来说，移民、留学或者流亡，曾经意味着一种新的开始。他们以为跨过海关，便跨过了恐惧；离开故土，便离开了审查；来到民主国家，便能够像一个真正自由的人那样生活。然而现实却告诉他们，事情远没有那么简单。

当外国政府能够在别国领土上恐吓居民，当人们在自由社会中依然因为政治观点而感到恐惧，当海外华人被迫进行自我审查，那么被侵蚀的不只是个人权利，更是法治、主权和公共安全本身。

因此，跨过镇压绝不是什么“中国人的内部事务”。

它是一场针对自由社会的挑战。

因为一个国家如果可以把自己的审查制度输出到海外，那么今天受到影响的是中国人，明天受到影响的就可能是任何人。

历史一次又一次证明，自由从来不是理所当然的礼物。

它需要被争取，也需要被捍卫。

言论自由之所以珍贵，不是因为人们有权说大家都同意的话，而是因为人们有权说权力不愿意听的话。

如果一个人离开了中国，却仍然无法摆脱政治恐惧；

如果一个人在民主国家，却依然不敢公开表达自己的观点；

如果一个政权能够让远在海外的人继续生活在沉默之中；

那么受到威胁的，就不仅仅是某个群体，而是自由本身。

中国共产党或许能够监控一个人的手机，能够骚扰一个人的家人，能够向海外输出恐惧。但它无法永远阻止人们思考。也无法永远阻止真相传播。更无法让整个世界接受这样一种逻辑：一个人的自由，应当在国界线前停止。

自由之所以被称为自由，正因为它不属于某个政党，不属于某个政府，也不属于某个国家。

它属于每一个人。

而任何试图把恐惧输出到全世界的政权，最终都会发现一个事实：国界可以限制人的流动，却无法永远囚禁思想。

离开中国，不一定能够立刻摆脱恐惧。

但正因如此，那些敢于发声的人才显得更加重要。

他们所捍卫的，不只是自己的权利。

而是一个最基本、也最不应被妥协的原则：自由，不应止于国界。

编辑：冯仍     校对：冯仍 翻译：沈美花

Freedom Should Not Stop at National Borders

Author: Zhang Yu

Many Chinese people experience a similar sensation when they first step onto foreign soil. The moment the plane lands, it feels as if they have finally passed through an invisible wall.

From then on, there is no longer a need to circumvent the Great Firewall to read the news, no longer a need to worry about which post in one’s WeChat Moments might be reported, and no longer a need to repeatedly weigh which words can or cannot be said before speaking. Many believe that as long as they leave China, the shadow of authoritarianism will remain on the other side of the border; as long as they are in a democratic country, freedom will become as natural as the air they breathe.

However, an increasing number of overseas Chinese are discovering that reality is not quite so.

Some participated in a peaceful rally, only for their parents back home to receive a phone call from the local police station a few days later.

Some published articles criticizing the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) on social media, and subsequently, community workers showed up at their relatives’ homes to “understand the situation.”

Some accepted media interviews to publicly discuss human rights, democracy, and freedom, resulting in their relatives in their hometowns being summoned for talks by the National Security Bureau.

And some merely forwarded a piece of sensitive news, only to encounter online harassment, account reporting, anonymous threats, and even impacts on their employment and studies.

They reside in the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, and Australia—some have even acquired local citizenship—yet a familiar fear has never truly left them.

This fear does not stem from the governments of the countries where they reside, but from Beijing, thousands of kilometers away.

This is precisely a form of power that the Chinese Communist Party has been continuously expanding in recent years—transnational repression.

It is no longer satisfied with controlling voices within China’s borders; instead, it attempts to extend censorship, surveillance, intimidation, and political oppression abroad. For the CCP, national borders are not the boundaries of power, but merely the starting point for its projection. It hopes that all Chinese people, whether in Beijing, Shanghai, New York, London, or Sydney, can feel the exact same pressure: do not say what should not be said, do not do what should not be done, and do not challenge any affairs of the Chinese Communist Party.

Consequently, an extremely absurd reality has emerged.

While overseas Chinese enjoy the freedom of speech granted by law in democratic countries, they must still worry about the safety of their families back home.

While they possess the right to assemble and protest, they remain afraid of being photographed, recorded, or placed on some sort of invisible blacklist.

When they finally gain the space to publicly express their views, they discover that the Chinese Communist Party still attempts to dictate which words can be spoken and which must be met with silence.

This phenomenon has expanded far beyond political influence in the ordinary sense.

It is a form of intimidation that crosses national borders, a method of political control targeting overseas Chinese communities, and a direct challenge to the principles of sovereignty and the rule of law in democratic nations.

Because if a foreign government can generate a chilling effect on the territory of another nation—if it can suppress the freedom of speech of local residents through harassment, threats, and surveillance—then what is being eroded is not merely individual rights, but the very institutional foundation upon which an entire free society relies.

The Chinese Communist Party has long claimed that it respects national sovereignty and opposes foreign interference in internal affairs. Yet, when it attempts to export its own censorship system, stability maintenance logic, and political fear to all corners of the world, what it is doing is precisely the most direct violation of other nations’ sovereignty.

Therefore, transnational repression is never just the private dilemma of overseas Chinese; it is an ongoing issue of international politics. It concerns freedom, it concerns the rule of law, and it concerns whether an authoritarian regime has the right to export its own fear to the entire world.

More fundamentally, it concerns a core question: after a person leaves China, do they still have the right to truly become a free person?

Why does the Chinese Communist Party extend its repression abroad?

Many believe that the reason the Chinese Communist Party focuses on overseas dissidents is because it fears voices of opposition.

But in fact, this only tells half the story.

What the Chinese Communist Party truly fears has never been criticism itself, but rather Chinese people who have escaped the scope of its control. Within China’s borders, the Communist Party possesses a massive stability maintenance system. It controls the media, censors the internet, monitors communications, manages publishing, restricts assembly, and suppresses dissent. Through decades of high-pressure governance, it has established a network of control that covers nearly every corner of society.

However, once someone leaves China, fractures appear in this system.

When a Chinese person is in New York, London, Toronto, or Sydney, they possess for the first time something they never had in the past—an uncensored information environment. They can read historical materials that were blocked; they can encounter different political viewpoints; they can publicly criticize the ruling party without worrying about police knocking on their door; they can participate in rallies, accept interviews, and freely express their positions.

To ordinary people, this is called freedom.

To the Chinese Communist Party, this is called losing control.

Because the most core foundation of totalitarian rule has never been physical force, but rather the monopoly on information.

The Communist Party’s ability to maintain its rule long-term relies not solely on police, prisons, and surveillance cameras, but even more so on its mastery over the right to interpret reality. It decides what history is; it decides what the truth is; it decides what can be discussed; it decides what must be forgotten.

The existence of overseas Chinese completely shatters this. A Chinese person living in a democratic country both understands Chinese society and possesses the space for free expression. They can disseminate information in Chinese; they can share different perspectives with relatives and friends back home; they can bring suppressed facts back into the Chinese-speaking world. In a sense, they become a bridge connecting the free world with the closed one.

And this is precisely what the Chinese Communist Party can tolerate least.

For a regime that relies on information control, the greatest danger is not foreign governments, international media, or even street protests. The greatest danger is a person who speaks Chinese, understands China, and is no longer afraid.

This is also why the CCP has long attempted to extend its control abroad. It fears not merely a specific dissident publishing an article; it fears that these articles will be seen by more Chinese people. It fears not merely a protest activity; it fears that people will discover that Chinese people can actually publicly oppose the government without being arrested. It fears not merely a video clip; it fears the reality represented behind the video—that the Communist Party is not beyond criticism, and power is not beyond questioning.

To a democratic society, these are the most normal civic rights. But to the Chinese Communist Party, they signify a fatal threat: Chinese people are beginning to realize that beyond the world narrated by the Communist Party, another possibility exists.

Therefore, the essence of transnational repression is not simple political retaliation.

It is a blockade targeted at thought.

The Communist Party attempts, through harassment, intimidation, surveillance, and pressure, to make those who are already in the free world continue living according to the rules within China. It wants you to be physically in the United States, but for your mind to remain inside the Great Firewall; it wants you to possess freedom of speech, but never dare to use it; it wants you to be able to see the truth, yet not dare to speak it out. In other words, it hopes to turn “China” into a prison that you carry with you. And this precisely exposes the deepest sense of insecurity within the Chinese Communist Party.

A truly confident regime does not fear its citizens going abroad.

A truly stable system does not fear people encountering different viewpoints.

Much less would it mobilize a massive state apparatus to track and suppress people over a few articles, a few rallies, or a few social media posts.

Only those regimes built upon lies fear freedom to such an extent.

Because it knows that once people begin to think freely, begin to compare different systems, and begin to independently judge right from wrong, the myth of power so painstakingly constructed over a long period could collapse overnight.

Therefore, transnational repression is never aimed at just one individual.

It is aimed at freedom itself.

It attempts to tell everyone who leaves China: even if you cross national borders, do not attempt to cross the barrier of fear.

For many who have left China, immigration, studying abroad, or exile once signified a new beginning. They believed that by crossing through customs, they had crossed past fear; by leaving their homeland, they had left censorship behind; by coming to a democratic country, they would be able to live like a truly free person. Yet reality tells them things are far from that simple.

When a foreign government can intimidate residents on another nation’s territory, when people in a free society still feel fear due to their political opinions, and when overseas Chinese are forced to engage in self-censorship, what is being eroded is not just individual rights, but law, sovereignty, and public safety itself.

Therefore, transnational repression is by no means some “internal affair of the Chinese people.”

It is a challenge directed at free societies.

Because if a country can export its censorship system abroad, then those affected today are the Chinese people, but those affected tomorrow could be anyone.

History has proven time and again that freedom is never a gift to be taken for granted.

It must be strived for, and it must be defended.

Freedom of speech is precious not because people have the right to say what everyone agrees with, but because people have the right to say what those in power do not wish to hear.

If a person leaves China yet remains unable to rid themselves of political fear;

If a person is in a democratic country yet still dares not publicly express their views;

If a regime can cause people far away overseas to continue living in silence;

Then what is threatened is not merely a specific group, but freedom itself.

The Chinese Communist Party may be able to monitor a person’s phone, harass a person’s family, and export fear abroad. But it cannot forever stop people from thinking. It cannot forever stop the truth from spreading. And it can never make the entire world accept this logic: that a person’s freedom should stop before national borders.

Freedom is called freedom precisely because it does not belong to a certain political party, does not belong to a certain government, and does not belong to a certain country.

It belongs to everyone.

And any regime that attempts to export fear to the entire world will ultimately discover one fact: borders can restrict the movement of people, but they can never permanently imprison thought.

Leaving China does not necessarily mean one can immediately escape fear.

But precisely because of this, those who dare to speak out become even more vital.

What they are defending is not just their own rights, but a principle that is most fundamental and should least be compromised:

Freedom should not stop at national borders.

Editor: Feng Reng

Proofreader: Feng Reng

Translator: Shen Meihua