看中共法律如何成为统治者的遮羞布

亲身经历者：王立君

在中共的官方宏大叙事中，“依法治国”永远是一个唱得响亮的口号。然而，对于任何一个真正经历过中共司法机器威压的普通中国人来说，这四个字不过是一块用来掩盖独裁与暴力统治的遮羞布。我的亲身经历，便是这块“遮羞布”下残酷真相的绝佳例证。

1989年的初夏，民主浪潮席卷全国。十堰市是个三线城市，当时市区只有三十多万人口，这座围绕着东风汽车供应链建起的“汽车城”，虽远离北京，却因汇集了多所高等院校和数万名充满热血的青年学生与知识分子，不在保持沉默，爆发出了抗争之声。

我当时还在湖北汽车工业学院科研处任职，起初因父亲的谆谆告诫，对政治运动保持着谨慎。然而，1989年6月4日晚北京枪声的传来，彻底击碎了他的幻想与沉默。“能真开枪呢？”当晚彻夜难眠的我，在眼泪与愤怒中做出了选择。

6月5日，佩戴着悼念同胞黑纱的我，和学生一起冲上街头。十堰市青年广场上，“还我同胞”、“血债要用血来换”的口号响彻云霄，抗议队伍从最初的数百人迅速壮大到上万人。在看到老百姓甚至高呼着“站起来”为抗议学生助威时，我深感自豪——在民族危难之际，我选择站了出来。为了支持学生在汽车总装厂门前的抗议，我将自己的手表押给店家，换来水和馒头充饥。

随着清算时刻的到来，中共“秋后算账”的丑恶嘴脸暴露无遗。全校范围内展开了所谓“双清”（清理思想、清理阶级队伍）运动，要求“人人过关，人人表态”。

在这场人性的大考前，谄媚者有之，伪善者有之，更有甚者如学生处处长赖福梅，公然在大会上宣称“代表党组织打进学生内部”。面对这种无耻行径，我们都骂他是“无耻的“赖皮狗”。

当轮到我表态时，我拒绝说假话。面对部门领导“共产党人必须说真话”的诱导，我直言不讳地表达了自己的基本态度，毛泽东说过：“镇压学生运动的人，都没有好下场！”然而，这句出自良知的真话，瞬间变成了刺向他的凶器。领导默默用小本子记下了这句言论并层层上报。随后，东风公司公安处政保科的警察找上门来。面对警察拍桌子、叫嚣要抓人，当时还对中共法律抱有幻想，据理力争：“国家的法律是你定的吗？我没犯法！”

对方的回答简单而粗暴：“我说你犯法就犯法了，我随时可以抓你！”

我曾相信自己“懂点法律”。社会上流传着这样一对口头禅：我一不偷二不抢三不反对共产党，谁也不能拿我怎么样？但当警察上门、强行要进屋搜查时，我据理力争要看“搜捕证”；在接受政保科讯问时，我义正辞严地告诫办案人员：“你们今天对我这个态度，是对中国民主运动的歧视，不担心将来平反找你们算账吗？”

然而，在独裁体制下，所谓的搜捕证、程序正义、言论自由，统统不如领导的一句话、小人的一封举报信。

在体制内小人的挑拨、地方官僚对“失控”的报复，以及高层下达的死命令面前，法律条文形同虚设。1989年12月底，在得知自己即将被抓的消息后，我还将信将疑，还抱有幻想，最多是把我关几天，教训一下而已。我想跑到外边躲几天可能就没事了，于是收拾一点临时的生活用品跳墙逃跑，浪迹天涯。20天后，我被人出卖被捕入狱。这个出卖我的人是东风公司热电厂基建科的一个电工，他名字叫尹伟民，我曾经一个偶然机会，听他在跟别人聊天的时候说，他跟公安局的人关系如何如何。我在逃跑的过程中万般无奈，打电话求他帮忙，他说，你能有多大事儿，又说，他过几天到宁波出差，有些事情需要当面跟我说，要我马上到他家来，被埋伏在他家的警察当场抓住。由于他出卖了我有功，马上入了党，被破格提拔为基建科长。

我入了地狱，在监狱中受尽了受尽了酷刑，他却升官。

我一个拥有正规大学学历、怀揣正义感、本本分分做科研的青年教师，仅仅因为说了几句真话、喊了几句口号、得罪了几位投机小人，就彻底沦为了这场政治运动的牺牲品。

“在没被捕之前，我充分相信中国的法律；但是被捕以后，彻底颠覆了我的思想。中国的法律就是一块遮羞布……也可以说中国就没有法，他们说了算，想抓谁就抓谁。”我在回忆这段历史时非常痛心。

我的遭遇并非孤例，而是千万个在中共体制下遭受迫害者的缩影。我的案件震惊了当年的湖北汽车工业学院，也震惊了整座汽车城。人们口口相传：王老师是被小人所害。

这起历经数十年依然血泪斑斑的亲身经历，向世人再次揭示了一个铁打的事实：在中共字典里，并没有真正的法治，有的只是权力的任意妄为和对异见者的残酷镇压。所谓的法律，对老百姓而言是严刑峻法，对统治阶级而言，不过是随时可以抹杀基本人权的一张废纸。

编辑：张致君 校对：王滨 翻译：戈冰

From “Knowing the Law” to the Abyss: The Prison Cry of an 89 Democracy Movement Participant

How the CCP’s Laws Serve as a Fig Leaf for Its Rulers

Firsthand Account by: Wang Lijun

In the CCP’s official grand narrative, “governing the country according to law” has always been a loudly touted slogan. However, for any ordinary Chinese person who has truly experienced the pressure of the CCP’s judicial machine, these eight words are nothing more than a fig leaf used to cover up dictatorial and violent rule. My personal experience stands as a prime example of the cruel truth beneath this “fig leaf.”

In the early summer of 1989, a wave of democracy swept across the entire nation. Shiyan was a Third-Front city with a urban population of only a little over 300,000 at the time. Although this “Auto City”—built around the Dongfeng Motor supply chain—was far from Beijing, it was no longer staying silent. Home to multiple institutions of higher education and tens of thousands of passionate young students and intellectuals, it let out a cry of resistance.

At the time, I was working in the Research Administration Department of Hubei Automotive Industries Institute. Initially, due to my father’s earnest warnings, I maintained caution toward political movements. However, the news of gunfire in Beijing on the night of June 4, 1989, completely shattered my illusions and silence. “How could they actually open fire?” Unable to sleep all night, I made my choice amid tears and rage.

On June 5, wearing a black armband to mourn my compatriots, I rushed onto the streets alongside the students. In Shiyan’s Youth Square, slogans like “Give Us Back Our Compatriots!” and “Blood Debts Must Be Paid in Blood!” echoed to the skies. The protest march rapidly grew from several hundred people at the start to tens of thousands. Seeing common citizens cheering on the protesting students and even shouting “Stand up!”, I felt immense pride—at a time of national crisis, I chose to step forward. To support the students protesting in front of the Final Assembly Plant, I pawned my own watch to a shopkeeper in exchange for water and steamed buns to satisfy their hunger.

As the moment of reckoning arrived, the CCP’s ugly face of “settling accounts after the event” was exposed without reservation. A so-called “Double Clean-up” (cleaning up thoughts and cleaning up class ranks) movement was launched across the entire university, requiring “everyone to pass the test, everyone to state their position.”

Faced with this grand test of human nature, there were flatterers and hypocrites. Even worse were people like Lai Fumei, the head of the Student Affairs Department, who openly declared at a general assembly that he was “infiltrating the students on behalf of the Party organization.” Confronted with such shameless behavior, we all denounced him as a “shameless scoundrel.”

When it came to my turn to state my position, I refused to tell lies. Facing my department leader’s inducement that “Communists must tell the truth,” I expressed my fundamental stance without reservation, quoting Mao Zedong: “Those who suppress student movements never come to a good end!” However, this truthful statement born of conscience instantly turned into a weapon stabbed into me. The leader silently noted down this remark in a little notebook and reported it up through the ranks, level by level. Soon after, police from the Political Security Section of the Dongfeng Motor Company Public Security Department came knocking on my door. Facing a policeman slapping the table and clamoring to make an arrest, I, still harboring illusions about the CCP’s laws at the time, argued on strong grounds: “Did you make the nation’s laws? I haven’t broken the law!”

The other party’s reply was simple and crude: “If I say you’ve broken the law, you’ve broken the law. I can arrest you anytime!”

I used to believe that I “knew a bit about the law.” There was a popular saying circulating in society: I don’t steal, I don’t rob, and I don’t oppose the Communist Party; who can do anything to me? But when the police came to my door and forcibly demanded to enter and search the house, I stood on grounds of reason and demanded to see a “search and arrest warrant.” During interrogation by the Political Security Section, I admonished the handling officers with righteous indignation: “Your attitude toward me today is discrimination against China’s democracy movement. Aren’t you worried that when we are rehabilitated in the future, we will settle accounts with you?”

However, under a dictatorial system, so-called search warrants, procedural justice, and freedom of speech were all inferior to a single sentence from a leader or a single letter of report from a petty person.

In the face of instigation by petty individuals within the system, retaliation by local bureaucrats against “loss of control,” and strict orders handed down from top leadership, legal provisions were a mere formality. At the end of December 1989, upon learning that I was about to be arrested, I was still half-doubting and harboring illusions, thinking they would at most lock me up for a few days just to teach me a lesson. I thought that if I ran outside to hide for a few days, things might blow over. So I packed up some temporary daily necessities, climbed over a wall to escape, and roamed the edges of the earth. Twenty days later, I was betrayed and arrested, landing in prison. The person who betrayed me was an electrician in the Infrastructure Construction Section of the Dongfeng Motor Company Thermal Power Plant named Yin Weimin. By chance, I had once heard him chatting with others, boasting about his close ties with the Public Security Bureau. Driven to utter helplessness during my flight, I called him to ask for help. He said, “How big a deal could it be for you?” He added that he was going on a business trip to Ningbo in a few days and needed to discuss certain matters with me face-to-face, asking me to come to his house immediately—where I was caught on the spot by police ambushed in his home. For his meritorious service in betraying me, he was immediately admitted to the Party and exceptionally promoted to Chief of the Infrastructure Construction Section.

I entered hell and suffered endless torture in prison, while he gained a promotion.

As a young teacher holding a regular university degree, harboring a sense of justice, and dutifully conducting scientific research, I became a total victim of this political movement simply because I spoke a few words of truth, shouted a few slogans, and offended a few opportunistic scoundrels.

“Before being arrested, I fully believed in China’s laws; but after being arrested, my mindset was completely upended. China’s law is just a fig leaf… one could even say China has no law at all. They have the final say and can arrest whoever they want.” Recalling this period of history brings me immense pain.

My encounter is not an isolated case, but a microcosm of tens of thousands who suffer persecution under the CCP regime. My case shocked the Hubei Automotive Industries Institute of that year, as well as the entire Auto City. People passed it from mouth to mouth: “Teacher Wang was harmed by petty scoundrels.”

This personal experience, still soaked in blood and tears after decades, reveals an ironclad fact to the world once more: in the CCP’s dictionary, there is no true rule of law, but only the arbitrary exercise of power and the brutal suppression of dissenters. The so-called law is draconian rule for the common people, while for the ruling class, it is nothing more than a scrap of paper that can erase basic human rights at any moment.

Edited by: Zhang Zhijun Proofread by: Wang Bin Translated by: Ge Bing