作者：罗翔

这大概是近年来最经典的一场“自我打脸”：央视正在热播《缅北电诈覆灭纪实》，告诉全国民众缅北电诈如何被重拳打击、如何走向覆灭；与此同时，另一边的消息却告诉我们，妙瓦底的电诈园区正在异地重建，社交媒体上的招聘信息甚至超过9300条。

一边是“覆灭”，一边是“重建”。一边是胜利的纪录片，一边是现实世界里重新挂起来的招聘广告。这到底是在拍纪录片，还是在拍一部大型连续剧？

10月5日至7日，中国公安部与央视联合摄制的纪录片在央视综合频道首播。片中披露，河南平顶山一名母亲被骗40.5万元，其中还包括挪用的公款，最终投河自尽；缅北电诈高峰时期，仅佤邦勐波地区就存在265个电诈窝点，涉诈人员接近6万人。数字确实触目惊心，故事也确实令人痛心。

可是问题来了：这么大的产业，是一天之内从地下冒出来的吗？几万个涉诈人员、数百个园区、完整的通信体系、人员招募体系、资金流转体系和地方保护网络，难道都是犯罪分子凭空变出来的？

更荒唐的是，我们这些年似乎一直在重复同一个故事。

这个园区被端了——胜利！那批诈骗分子被抓了——胜利！某地被清剿了——重大成果！新闻播完以后，大家刚准备鼓掌，转过头一看：怎么又冒出来一个新的？

缅北不行了，还有妙瓦底。

妙瓦底不行了，还可以换一个地方。

园区没了，可以重新建设。

人抓了一批，还可以重新招募。

于是一个极其诡异的画面出现了：电诈园区像打不死的小强，每次新闻宣布“覆灭”，过一阵子就换个地方继续营业。

这就让人不得不怀疑，我们到底是在消灭电诈，还是在不断追赶电诈？

更值得玩味的是，电诈园区不是荒郊野外里凭空出现的一顶帐篷。

它需要电，需要通信，需要网络，需要资金，需要人员，需要运输，需要招募，需要地方势力提供保护。

一个几万人规模的产业，能够长期运转，本身就说明它背后存在一套复杂的利益链。

那么问题来了：这些电力从哪里来？通信从哪里来？资金怎么进、怎么出？招聘信息为什么可以公开传播？人员又是怎么源源不断进入园区的？

如果这些最基础的问题都没有被彻底回答，只是抓一批人、拆几个园区，然后宣布“覆灭”，那所谓的“覆灭”，究竟覆灭了什么？

更耐人寻味的是，中国企业在境外电力、通信等基础设施领域长期存在广泛布局。网络上因此长期流传各种关于中国企业与境外电诈园区之间关系的说法，甚至有人讽刺所谓“电诈公司是某些势力的白手套”。

这些说法究竟是真是假，当然应该拿证据说话。

可如果没有任何利益关系，为什么不能把整个供应链、资金链和通信链彻底公开调查清楚？

谁供电，谁提供通信，谁收钱，谁获利，谁保护，谁睁一只眼闭一只眼？

只要这些问题能够彻底查清楚，谣言自然就没有市场。

最怕的不是有人提出质疑，而是每一次质疑都只得到一句“我们已经取得重大成果”，然后过几个月，又出现新的园区、新的诈骗、新的受害者。

于是公众只能一次次观看同样的剧情：园区出现——警方行动——新闻报道——宣布成果——舆论欢呼——园区转移——重新招募——新的受害者。循环往复。

如果把这些年的新闻全部连起来看，甚至会产生一种荒诞感：每一次新闻都可以单独看成胜利，可所有新闻连起来，却像是一场永远没有大结局的连续剧。这才是最讽刺的地方。

真正值得关注的，不应该只是“抓了多少人”“端掉多少窝点”，更应该看看那些被骗者后来怎么样了。

被骗的钱追回来了吗？家破人亡的家庭得到什么补偿了吗？被诱骗、胁迫进入园区的人回来以后怎么样了？那些因为诈骗失去积蓄、工作甚至亲人的民众，谁来承担他们人生被改变的代价？

如果一个母亲被骗40.5万元之后选择投河，那么对她的家庭来说，所谓“重大行动成果”究竟意味着什么？

对一个已经失去亲人的家庭而言，一场新闻发布会、一部纪录片、一串抓捕数字，真的能够填补那个永远消失的位置吗？所以，真正讽刺的并不是打击电诈本身，而是某些叙事方式。

当“覆灭”成为标题，当“重大成果”成为结论，当掌声成为结尾，可现实却告诉我们：园区换个地方又开张了，招聘广告继续铺天盖地，新的受害者还在不断出现。

那么这场所谓的“覆灭”，究竟是谁的覆灭？是电诈产业的覆灭，还是一个旧园区的覆灭？

如果犯罪产业能够换个地方继续运转，如果背后的电力、通信、资金、人员和保护网络没有被真正切断，那么把一个园区炸掉、拆掉、端掉，又有什么意义？

这就像一棵树，天天砍树枝，却从来不去挖树根。最后当然可以宣布：“树已经被我们成功消灭！”可是春风一吹，下一棵又长出来了。

这才是这场“77年自扇耳光”真正荒诞的地方：嘴上说的是覆灭，现实看到的却是重生；新闻讲的是胜利，民众看到的却是循环。

如果一个犯罪产业几十年来不断换地方、换招牌、换园区，却始终能够死灰复燃，那么我们究竟应该相信新闻里的“已经覆灭”，还是应该追问一个能够被反复宣布“消灭”、却又能够反复重新出现的庞大产业，真正没有被消灭的，到底是电诈，还是它背后那条让电诈能够生存下去的利益链？ 

编辑：赵杰 校对：熊辩 翻译：周敏

Classic Self-Slap in the Face of 77 Years: The Truth Behind Northern Myanmar is Actually Self-Thievery

Author: Luo Xiang

This is probably the most classic “self-slap in the face” in recent years: CCTV is currently broadcasting Documentary on the Annihilation of Telecom Fraud in Northern Myanmar, telling the national public how telecom fraud in northern Myanmar was hit hard with heavy fists and how it walked towards annihilation; at the same time, news from the other side tells us that telecom fraud parks in Myawaddy are rebuilding in a different place, and recruitment information on social media even exceeds 9,300 items.

On one side is “annihilation,” and on the other side is “reconstruction.” On one side is a victory documentary, and on the other side is recruitment advertisements hanging up again in the real world. Is this actually filming a documentary, or filming a large-scale TV drama series?

From October 5th to 7th, the documentary jointly produced by the Ministry of Public Security of China and CCTV premiered on CCTV General Channel. The film disclosed that a mother in Pingdingshan, Henan was scammed out of 405,000 yuan, which also included misappropriated public funds, and ultimately threw herself into a river to commit suicide; during the peak period of telecom fraud in northern Myanmar, in the Wa State Mengbo region alone, there existed 265 telecom fraud dens, with fraud-involved personnel approaching 60,000 people. The numbers are indeed shocking, and the story is indeed heartbreaking.

But here comes the question: Was such a huge industry sprouted out from underground within a single day? Tens of thousands of fraud-involved personnel, hundreds of parks, complete communication systems, personnel recruitment systems, fund circulation systems, and local protection networks—could all these be transformed out of thin air by criminals?

What is even more absurd is that we seem to be repeating the exact same story over these years.

This park was busted—victory! That batch of fraud criminals was caught—victory! A certain place was wiped out—major achievement! After the news finishes broadcasting, just as everyone is preparing to applaud, turning around and looking: How comes a new one popped up again?

Northern Myanmar doesn’t work anymore, there is still Myawaddy.

Myawaddy doesn’t work anymore, can also change to another place.

The park is gone, can be reconstructed.

A batch of people was caught, can recruit again.

So an extremely weird scene appeared: Telecom fraud parks are like unkillable cockroaches; every time the news announces “annihilation,” after a while they change places and continue operating.

This makes people unable to help but suspect: Are we actually eliminating telecom fraud, or constantly chasing after telecom fraud?

What is even more worth pondering is that a telecom fraud park is not a tent appearing out of thin air in a wild suburb.

It needs electricity, needs communication, needs network, needs funds, needs personnel, needs transportation, needs recruitment, and needs local forces to provide protection.

An industry with a scale of tens of thousands of people, being able to operate long-term, itself demonstrates that behind it exists a complex chain of interests.

Then here comes the question: Where does this electricity come from? Where does communication come from? How do funds enter, how do they leave? Why can recruitment information be publicly spread? And how do personnel flow into the parks in a steady stream?

If these most basic questions have not been thoroughly answered, merely catching a batch of people, dismantling a few parks, and then announcing “annihilation”—then what on earth did the so-called “annihilation” actually annihilate?

Even more intriguing is that Chinese enterprises have long had extensive layouts in overseas fields such as electricity and infrastructure communication. Various rumors regarding the relationship between Chinese enterprises and overseas telecom fraud parks have therefore circulated online for a long time; some people even satirized that the so-called “telecom fraud companies are white gloves for certain forces.”

Whether these claims are true or false, one should of course speak with evidence.

But if there are no interest relationships whatsoever, why cannot the entire supply chain, fund chain, and communication chain be thoroughly investigated and publicly clarified?

Who supplies electricity, who provides communication, who receives money, who profits, who protects, who turns a blind eye?

As long as these questions can be thoroughly investigated clearly, rumors naturally will have no market.

What is feared most is not that someone raises doubts, but that every single doubt only receives a sentence of “we have achieved major results,” and then a few months later, new parks, new frauds, and new victims appear again.

Hence the public can only watch the exact same plot time after time: Park appears—police action—news report—announce results—public opinion cheers—park shifts—rec recruit again—new victims. Repeating in a cycle endlessly.

If all the news over these years are connected together to read, one would even generate a sense of absurdity: Every news item can be viewed as an individual victory, but all news connected together feels like an endless TV series without a final finale. This is the most satirical part.

What truly deserves attention should not merely be “how many people were caught” or “how many dens were busted,” but should even more look at how those scammed people fared afterwards.

Was the scammed money recovered? Did broken and ruined families receive any compensation? What happened to those people who were lured or coerced into entering the parks after they returned? Those citizens who lost savings, jobs, or even relatives because of fraud—who will bear the price of their lives being altered?

If a mother, after being scammed out of 405,000 yuan, chose to throw herself into a river, then to her family, what on earth does the so-called “major action result” mean?

To a family that has already lost a relative, can a news conference, a documentary, or a string of arrest numbers really fill that forever-vanished position? Therefore, what is truly satirical is not combating telecom fraud itself, but certain narrative methods.

When “annihilation” becomes the headline, when “major results” become the conclusion, when applause becomes the ending, yet reality tells us: The park changed places and opened for business again, recruitment ads continue to cover every corner, and new victims are constantly appearing.

Then this so-called “annihilation,” whose annihilation is it actually? Is it the annihilation of the telecom fraud industry, or the annihilation of an old park?

If a criminal industry can change places and continue operating, if the electricity, communication, funds, personnel, and protection networks behind it have not been truly severed, then blowing up, dismantling, or busting a park—what significance does it have?

This is just like a tree: chopping tree branches every day, yet never going to dig up the tree roots. In the end, one can certainly announce: “The tree has been successfully eliminated by us!” But as soon as the spring breeze blows, the next one grows out again.

This is the place where this “77 years of self-slap in the face” is truly absurd: What is said verbally is annihilation, but what is seen in reality is rebirth; what the news tells is victory, but what the public sees is a cycle.

If a criminal industry continuously changes places, changes signboards, and changes parks over decades, yet can always rise from the dead, then should we actually believe the “already annihilated” in the news, or should we question a giant industry that can be repeatedly announced as “eliminated” yet repeatedly reappear—what is truly not eliminated, is it telecom fraud, or is it that interest chain behind it that enables telecom fraud to survive?

Editor: Zhao Jie Proofreader: Xiong Bian Translator: Zhou Min

作者：刘畅

      最近越南与欧洲签约高铁项目，本以为某些人会反思越南为什么选远亲而不选近邻？恰恰相反，国内的媒体大肆宣传，越南签约欧洲是赔了夫人又折兵：赔了钱，还搭上廉价劳动力。明眼人一看，这是吃不到葡萄说葡萄酸。新闻播了几天，效果明显不咋地，又出现另一种新闻，中国和河内签署了工业园、公路等修建协议，来宣示这个邻居并没完全抛弃自己。不过是个欧越高铁项目的合作事件，偏偏弄出两个版本的新闻。恰恰应验了中共百年不变的新闻宣传方针“报喜不报忧”，对国外事件呢，报忧不报喜，人家没忧也要弄出点“忧点”，再反其道而行之，秀自己的存在，网络上出现一个新词“赢了”，在舆论上赢了，在宣传上赢了。这样一看，如果说阿Q精神在民国之前只出现在民间，而现在是官方内定、法定，冠冕堂皇，简直到了极致！

     提到越南，大家并不陌生，百年前中国的藩属国，中法战争后，法国逐步取代清朝对越南的宗主权。近代时期，经历越法战争、越美战争，最终取得独立。在经济发展上，每一步都在效仿中国，改革开放、招商引资、劳动红利等，这条路线，不亚于当年模仿日本的中国。

      当代的中国，无论是汉语词汇的引进，还是政策的效仿，太多脱胎于日本，什么素质教育、国企年功序列制度、国企改制、公务员选拔制、大学生扩招、大学生村官、选调生，都是日本在几十年前实践过的。更不要说，早期电影、电视、音乐中日本文化的影响，高铁、重工等工业影响。但绝大部分中国人并不知道这一事实，尤其在互联网并不发达的昨天。在中共的意识里，功劳都是自己的，人民无功，友邦无劳，拿来的都是他自己的。那老百姓知不知道，中日建交后，日本为了支持中国发展，提供了贷款和其他援助，更不用说，上世纪80年代，提供了多少技术和生产线？中国人民，在上个世纪掀起的日语潮、日本出国风也不是假的。

     在这里，我不是宣传日本有多好，而是说明，日本这个中国现代化的最大的外籍功臣之一，中国尚且可以肆意抹黑，更不要提同样有贡献和支持的美国和欧洲。中国为什么对自己有帮助的友邦这个态度呢？

      答：我曾经常给他们分享一个观点，为什么中共在文革时期坚决打击一切宗教？因为中共想当“上帝”。为了达到这个目的，一切风头盖过它的人物、组织、国家都必须在它之下，无论是它认为好的或者坏的。好的呢？它想方设法收编到它的麾下，或发展为党员，或者统战到其阵营，如果统战不成，就过河拆桥，把他们的功劳据为己有再抹黑之。它认为坏的呢？李洪志、马云等就是其下场。回到刚才那个问题，这些友邦虽然帮助了中国，第一、其风头容易盖过中共，第二、人权观念无法达成一致，就只有将其收功再抹黑。当中国人在侵华战争的历史叙事中被洗脑，出现仇日、反日情绪，甚至在深圳血案发生后，谁知道这个国家曾帮助中国人走向现代化？谁知道1989年后，这个国家为中国人民的人权而奔走和呼号呢？

    反观越南，虽然是中国的学生，这些年默默地招商引资，默默地发展，秉持“竹子外交”，不站边，既不得罪中国，也与欧美关系稳定，逐渐成为了亚洲发展的一颗新星。主动与欧洲合作，也是符合市场经济规则。他们并没有学中国，动不动要求外企与国企合资，霸王条款一大堆，随时为“过河拆桥”埋下伏笔或者留后路。既然这样，越南就像个初出江湖的小兄弟，实力虽然不强，但谦逊低调，主动融入江湖规则，中国呢，则像个江湖老油条，有一定地位，但老奸巨猾，在它掌握绝对垄断地位时，别人有可能被迫顺服于它，但大环境中一旦出现更多像越南这类敦厚的小兄弟时，这种风格只会被丢进历史垃圾桶。

    中国的改革开放已经近五十年，到底该怎么走？治国治企如同做人，合作才能共赢，凡事不着眼于你死我活的输赢逻辑，懂得尊重他人，有收获也必须有付出，才能长久合作；如果只是仗着地大物博、人口红利，处处对他国掣肘，处处搞经济霸权，你又如何在这个世界得到尊重？又有人说了，中国和第三世界走得很近，朋友很多，但那些朋友是中国抠人民的福利去“撒币”收买的，有钱就是朋友，没钱狗屁不是，这些国家墙头草两边倒，巴基斯坦就是例子。所以，治国也得靠仁义礼智信，人人为我，我为人人，遵守游戏规则，不是靠投机取巧，今天偶然取胜了，明天呢？友邦全部跑了，难道又回到闭关锁国、闭门造车的天朝“内需”时期？

    再谈谈前段时间一个新闻，越南对外宣传，争取2050年建成发达国家。国内的人觉得越南不自量力。中国人在国内被洗脑，认为发达国家就是GDP、高楼大厦、车水马龙的硬件，其实还有什么？共产党永远不会告诉你，“发达”更多是国家给予人民的福利，从人权、医疗、教育、生老病死等一条龙保障。一个国家敢给他们人民承诺“发达”，就是承诺给予福利，这难道不是一种魄力和胆识？然而很多中国人连“福利”这个词都没听说过，更不要说福利的直观理解。以前罗大佑的歌曲《童年》，第二段唱道：福利社里什么都有，就是口袋里没有半毛钱……这一段也因政治原因被“和谐”掉了。中国发展了这么多年，财富积累这么多年，对内始终一句话：中国始终长期处在发展中阶段。也就是说，中国人民将长期不配有福利。要么说中国人口多了，但人口数据到底多少，它自己统计，它自己最清楚；要么说中国还要积累资本搞基建，中国的基建已经超越了很多发达国家了，还有太多重复建设，这个很重要吗？既然号称全民所有，为什么福利只限于体制内，可全民的“分红”呢？既然号称社会主义，可是全民共享福利才是真正的社会主义，否则就是资本主义或寡头。

    最后，希望越南能一如既往地保持这种谦逊低调的外交作风，遵守规则，主动融入世界、服务于世界，造福于越南人民，发不发达不重要，只要坚持到底，十年、二十年、五十年，一定会成为东亚的另一种“发展”的可能，也能成为一面照妖镜，照出自己的清白坦荡，更照出真正的妖魔鬼怪！

编辑：胡丽莉 校对：孔祥庆 翻译：周敏

From Vietnamese High-Speed Rail to Universal Welfare: What Exactly Has China “Won”?

Author: Liu Chang

Abstract: Taking high-speed rail cooperation in Vietnam as an entry point, this article criticizes the win-lose logic promoted by CCP propaganda, analyzes the reasons why it smears external contributions, and compares the development models of China and Vietnam, calling for respect for rules and equal cooperation so that development genuinely benefits the people.

Recently, Vietnam signed a high-speed rail project contract with Europe. It was originally thought that certain people would reflect on why Vietnam chose a distant relative over a close neighbor; on the contrary, domestic media hyped up on a grand scale that Vietnam signing with Europe meant suffering double losses: losing money and throwing in cheap labor to boot. Anyone with discerning eyes can see that this is a case of sour grapes. After broadcasting the news for a few days, the effect was obviously not good, so another kind of news emerged: China and Hanoi signed agreements to build industrial parks, highways, and other projects, so as to proclaim that this neighbor has not completely abandoned itself. It was merely a cooperation event on a Europe-Vietnam high-speed rail project, yet two versions of news were concocted out of it. This happened to fulfill the CCP’s century-old, unchanging news propaganda principle of “reporting good news but not bad news”; as for foreign events, it reports bad news but not good news, and even if others have no “bad points,” it will manufacture some, and then go in the opposite direction to show off its own presence, spawning a new term on the internet: “won”—winning in public opinion, winning in propaganda. Looking at it this way, if the Ah Q spirit appeared only among the populace before the Republic of China, it is now internally designated, statutory, high-sounding, and simply taken to the extreme by the authorities!

Speaking of Vietnam, everyone is not unfamiliar with it—a tributary state of China a century ago. After the Sino-French War, France gradually replaced the Qing Dynasty’s suzerainty over Vietnam. In modern times, having experienced the Franco-Vietnamese War and the Vietnam-US War, it ultimately achieved independence. In terms of economic development, every step has been emulating China: reform and opening up, attracting foreign investment, demographic dividends, and so forth. This route is no less than China imitating Japan back in the day.

In contemporary China, whether it is the introduction of Chinese vocabulary or the emulation of policies, far too much was born out of Japan—such things as quality education, the state-owned enterprise seniority system, state-owned enterprise restructuring, civil servant selection system, university expansion enrollment, university student village officials, and selected graduates were all practiced by Japan decades ago. Not to mention the influence of Japanese culture in early movies, television, and music, as well as industrial influences such as high-speed rail and heavy industry. But the vast majority of Chinese people do not know this fact, especially in the yesterday when the internet was not well-developed. In the consciousness of the CCP, all credits belong to itself: the people have no merit, friendly nations have no effort, and whatever it has taken from others is all its own. Then do the common people know that after the establishment of diplomatic relations between China and Japan, Japan provided loans and other assistance to support China’s development—not to mention how much technology and how many production lines it provided in the 1980s? The Japanese language craze and the wave of going to Japan set off by the Chinese people in the last century were not fake either.

Here, I am not promoting how good Japan is, but illustrating that towards Japan—one of the largest foreign contributors to China’s modernization—China can still willfully smear it, let alone the United States and Europe, which likewise provided contributions and support. Why does China hold this attitude toward friendly nations that have helped it?

Answer: I used to often share a viewpoint with them: Why did the CCP resolutely crack down on all religions during the Cultural Revolution? Because the CCP wants to play “God.” To achieve this goal, all figures, organizations, and countries that overshadow it must be beneath it, whether it deems them good or bad. What about the good ones? It tries every possible way to incorporate them under its banner—either developing them into party members or co-opting them into its united front camp; if united front tactics fail, it kicks down the ladder, usurps their credits as its own, and then smears them. What about those it deems bad? Li Hongzhi, Jack Ma, and others are their outcome. Returning to the question just now: although these friendly nations helped China, first, their momentum easily overshadows the CCP, and second, consensus cannot be reached on human rights concepts, so there is no choice but to usurp their merits and then smear them. When Chinese people are brainwashed in the historical narrative of the War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression, giving rise to anti-Japanese emotions—even after the Shenzhen blood tragedy occurred—who knows that this country once helped Chinese people move toward modernization? Who knows that after 1989, this country bustled and cried out for the human rights of the Chinese people?

Looking at Vietnam in contrast: although it is a student of China, over these years it has quietly attracted foreign investment, quietly developed, and adhered to “bamboo diplomacy”—taking no sides, offending neither China nor losing stability in relations with Europe and America, gradually becoming a rising star of Asian development. Proactively cooperating with Europe also aligns with market economy rules. They did not copy China in demanding foreign enterprises form joint ventures with state-owned enterprises at every turn, packing in heaps of domineering terms and laying down hidden lines or leaving escape hatches for “kicking down the ladder” at any time. In this way, Vietnam is like a novice brother who has just entered the arena—though not strong in capability, humble and low-key, proactively integrating into arena rules; China, on the other hand, is like an old slickster in the arena—possessing a certain status, but cunning and treacherous. When it holds an absolute monopoly position, others may be forced to yield to it, but once more honest and simple junior brothers like Vietnam appear in the macro environment, this style will only be dumped into the trash heap of history.

China’s reform and opening up has lasted nearly fifty years; how on earth should it proceed? Governance of a country or an enterprise is just like personal conduct: only through cooperation can win-win results be achieved. If one refrains from focusing on the win-lose logic of life and death in everything, knows how to respect others, and realizes that harvests must come with contributions, long-term cooperation can be attained. If one merely relies on vast territory, abundant resources, and demographic dividends to stymie other countries at every turn and engage in economic hegemony everywhere, how can you gain respect in this world? Some people say again that China stays very close to the Third World and has many friends, but those friends were bought by China through pinching the welfare of its people to “scatter money”; with money they are friends, without money they are worth nothing—these countries sway like weeds on a wall, Pakistan being an example. Therefore, governing a country must also rely on benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness—all for one, one for all, obeying the rules of the game, rather than relying on opportunism. Winning by chance today, what about tomorrow? When friendly nations have all fled, will it return to the Celestial Empire’s “internal demand” period of national closure and behind-closed-doors development?

Let’s speak further of a piece of news from a while ago: Vietnam announced externally that it strives to build a developed country by 2050. People domestically felt Vietnam was overestimating its abilities. Chinese people have been brainwashed domestically into believing that a developed country is merely the hardware of GDP, skyscrapers, and bustling traffic. In fact, what else is there? The Communist Party will never tell you that “developed” is more about the welfare given by the country to its people—one-stop protection ranging from human rights, healthcare, and education to birth, aging, illness, and death. A country that dares to promise its people “developedness” is promising to provide welfare; is this not a form of boldness and courage? Yet many Chinese people have never even heard of the word “welfare,” let alone having an intuitive understanding of welfare. Previously, in the second verse of Lo Ta-yu’s song Childhood, it was sung: Inside the welfare shop there is everything, except there is not a half-penny in the pocket… This segment was also “harmonized” due to political reasons. China has developed for so many years and accumulated wealth for so many years, yet internally there is always one sentence: China remains in the primary stage of development for a long time. In other words, the Chinese people will not be worthy of having welfare for a long time. Either it is said that China’s population is too large—though as for how much the population data actually is, it calculates its own statistics and knows best itself; or it is said that China still needs to accumulate capital to conduct infrastructure construction—China’s infrastructure has already surpassed many developed countries, and there is far too much duplicate construction. Is this really that important? Since it claims to be owned by all the people, why is welfare limited to those inside the system, while where is the “dividend” for all the people? Since it claims to be socialism, sharing welfare among all the people is true socialism; otherwise, it is capitalism or an oligarchy.

Finally, it is hoped that Vietnam can, as always, maintain this humble and low-key diplomatic style, abide by rules, proactively integrate into and serve the world, and benefit the Vietnamese people. Whether it becomes developed or not is not important; as long as it perseveres to the end—ten years, twenty years, fifty years—it will surely become another possibility of “development” in East Asia, and can also become a demon-revealing mirror, reflecting its own innocence and frankness, while further exposing the true demons and monsters!

Editor: Hu Lili    Proofreader: Kong Xiangqing    Translator: Zhou Min

作者：蔡诗文

致台湾的年轻人：

我来自中国、爱台湾。有些话想写下来给你们，希望我们可以有机会坐下来谈谈。

首先我想说，我能理解你们累了。从小到大，每一次选举都被说成“关键的一战”，每隔一阵子新闻就提醒你，对岸又在演习了。另一边，你只是想努力过幸福的日子。

这份疲惫，民调里看得见。2024大选之前，2023年6月台湾民意基金会的一份民调，已经把这种年轻人的心情表现得非常明显：20至24岁选民中，柯文哲的支持度高达67%，远高于赖清德的8.8%和侯友宜的7.4%；25至34岁中，柯文哲也以40%领先赖清德的28%和侯友宜的13%。 “不要再吵统独，先顾好我们的生活”，说中了很多那时候台湾年轻人的心声。

柯文哲涉案后，民众党的好感度明显回落。《美丽岛电子报》2026年4月民调中，20至29岁对民进党的反感度一度达54.5%；但到6月，民进党在这个年龄层的好感（44.3%）已略高于反感（40.3%），反而是国民党与民众党的反感度都超过五成。不过，两次民调中都没有任何政党在年轻人中获得过半好感。许多台湾年轻人并没有稳定倒向哪一党。这透露的或许是一种对政党政治的疲惫。

想要一份稳定的工作、买得起的房子、可以规划的人生，这些愿望一点错都没有。你们当然可以厌倦那些反复出现的政治口号，也可以不想每天追着选举和两岸新闻跑。政治本来就不该吞掉一个人的生活。

但也正因为你们已经很累了，我更想把一些我亲眼见过的事情讲给你们听。不是为了让你们更焦虑，也不是要你们活在战争的恐惧里。怎么看、怎么选择，由你们判断。

我眼中的台湾

在台湾，特别是在台南，常让我停下脚步的是街角那些小店。很多已经开了几十年，传到了第二代、第三代。他们不急着扩张，只是一年又一年把同一件事做好。一个人敢把一辈子押在一间小店上，是因为他相信今天的用心，明天还会有收获。

十多年前，我在花莲旅行时请过一位导游。他支持国民党。大概知道我从中国来，他一路上讲了不少“两岸一家亲”的话。我心里并不认同，只是没有说出口。但让我记住他的，是另一件事。

那天天气不好，他带我去的景点很快就逛完了。他大概觉得收了钱却没让我玩尽兴，过意不去，就多开了一个小时的车，带我去一处只有当地人才知道的天然硫磺温泉。看到我喜欢那里，他脸上露出了一种松了口气的笑。这些年想起台湾，我常想起那个表情。这份善良，跟他支持哪个政党无关。

这些在台湾再平常不过的事，在我的国家却从来不是理所当然。在中国，一间开了二十年的小店，可能因为一纸通知就得关门，没有人需要向你解释。2021年突如其来的“双减”政策，几乎摧毁了中国原本庞大的学科类课外培训行业。公开挑战官方叙事的人，轻则被约谈、重则坐牢。2020年初，武汉医生李文亮在同学群里提醒大家防范一种新型冠状病毒，被警方以发布、传播不实信息等理由训诫，一个月后，他死于新冠。2015年的“709大抓捕”中，大批维权律师、法律工作者和公民被带走、约谈或拘押，律师王全璋后来以“颠覆国家政权罪”被判刑。在中国，大多数人都学会了先活下来，别的以后再说。

同样的年轻人，不同的命运

在台湾，你们可以公开批评市长、批评总统，可以上街抗议，第二天照常上班上课。2014年春天，台湾的学生占领了立法院。不管怎么评价那场运动，参与的人后来面对的是选票、舆论和法院。

同一年秋天，香港的年轻人撑起雨伞，在街头坚持了79天，要的是真正的普选。那一年，17岁的周庭是学民思潮的发言人。2020年8月，她因涉嫌违反国安法被捕，同年12月又因参与未经批准集结被判刑入狱。出狱后，她的护照被扣了将近三年。2023年她申请出国读书。她后来表示，在取回护照、获准离境前，国安人员陪同她去了深圳参观改革开放展览；回来后，她还亲笔写信，感谢警方安排她了解“祖国的伟大发展”。她说，这样的信，那几个月里写过好几封。到了多伦多，她宣布不再回港报到。不久，她被香港警方列入通缉名单。

邹幸彤是执业律师，也是支联会前副主席，长期参与每年的维园六四悼念活动。2021年，她因为呼吁市民去悼念而入狱。法庭上，她说如果一定要讲“煽惑”，那是香港人煽惑她按良知行事，她为此受刑，无怨无悔。许多人离开香港的那几年，她留了下来。2026年9月11日，她以“煽动颠覆国家政权罪”被判监禁7年3个月。

在香港，这就是为普选、为一根蜡烛说话的代价。

2022年11月，乌鲁木齐一场火灾之后，中国各地的年轻人举起了白纸。纸上一个字都没写，因为他们知道，写什么都可能是罪。事后，参与者、年轻女孩曹芷馨在被带走前录下视频，请大家追问她们为什么被捕，不要让她们无声无息地消失。一位拍下上海白纸抗议的纪录片导演陈品霖，因为制作并发布纪录片《乌鲁木齐中路》，被以‘寻衅滋事罪’判处三年半有期徒刑。。

同样是年轻人，同样想为自己的未来说话，在台湾、在香港、在中国，换来的却是完全不同的命运。

在那堵墙里面，一直有人在看着你们

我不怪身在中国、认为统一是唯一答案的许多人。一个人从小听见什么故事、看见什么世界，会影响他怎样理解自己的国家和未来。很多人习惯了从国家、民族和集体的角度思考，却不知道一个普通人也可以问一句：我自己想要什么样的生活？当权力又可以随时、任意地介入，而普通人很难要求它解释和负责，久而久之，人就会学会先顺着大局走。

中国也有另一些人。他们不是多数，但他们在。2019年香港的年轻人上街时，有数百位身在中国大陆的大学生手写字条向香港致敬，并附上学生证或身份证的局部照片证明自己真的来自中国。后来有人把这些照片整理成了一段视频：https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mKArxVyqFOs

所以，当我说希望这样的地方能被好好守住，我并不是觉得你们肩上有什么历史使命。你们没有义务替那一边的人负责，更没有义务为了证明什么而牺牲自己的生活。

我只是想告诉你们：你们拥有的这些选择，对有些暂时没有选择的人而言，远比你们想象得珍贵。你们可以投票，可以批评政府，可以上街，可以说“不”，也可以什么政治口号都不相信。

这些事情对你们来说也许已经普通到不值得一提，但正因为普通，它才值得被珍惜。

一场不只关乎市政的选举

11月28日是九合一地方选举，22个县市同一天改选首长和地方民代。这是2025年大罢免之后的第一场全国性选举，也普遍被看作2028年总统大选的前哨战。中选会估计，这次的首投族有60多万人。

地方选举谈的多半是托育、捷运、市场整修，正是你们最在乎的生活。但今年在台北，生活和两岸刚好缠在了一起。

现任市长蒋万安争取连任，民进党在5月征召立委沈伯洋挑战。沈伯洋是北京点名的对象：国台办在2024年10月把他列入“台独顽固分子”清单；2025年10月，重庆市公安局又以他“发起、建立‘台独’分裂组织黑熊学院”等为由，以涉嫌“分裂国家罪”对他立案侦查。一个台湾公民在台湾参选，却被中国的公安列为刑事追诉对象。

蒋万安有他的市政成绩，沈伯洋有他的政见，选民本来就该用市政的标准检验两个人。我提这件事，不是要替谁拉票，而是因为它让我看到，北京的施压不只靠海峡上的军机，也会伸向台湾人自己的选举。你们可以批评自己的政府，可以换掉自己的市长，也可以讨厌所有的政党。你们可以什么政治口号都不相信。但有一件事，我希望你们永远自己决定：谁可以被选上，谁不可以。你们不应该让北京决定你们应该害怕谁、不能选谁。请你们照常、不受恐吓地去投票，投给自己认为对的人。

这次年轻人的票也特别难预测。台北市长选战中，不同民调甚至给出了相当不同的结果。5月TVBS民调显示，在20至29岁有投票意愿的台北选民中，蒋万安以60%领先沈伯洋的37%；到了9月，信民两岸研究协会的民调却显示，20至29岁沈伯洋以42.8%领先蒋万安的37.8%，30至39岁也是沈伯洋领先。

两份民调的方法并不相同：TVBS只用市内电话抽样，并只统计有投票意愿者；信民民调则加入手机样本，对象是全体成年市民。因此，这种差距究竟有多少来自真实的民意变化、有多少来自抽样方式，目前仍难判断。

但至少有一点很清楚：台湾年轻人的票没有被任何一个政党锁住。他们可以因为市政投票，也可以因为两岸问题投票；可以支持这个人，也可以下一次换一个人。

这种“看人不看党”是健康的挑剔而不是冷漠。我在中国时从来没有机会这样挑剔。在香港，办一场初选可以换来十年牢狱；在中国，举起一张白纸可能让一个人彻底消失。在台湾，你们只需要走进投票所。投给谁，是你们的事。

最值得守住的，是选择

很多社会都走过这段路：越富足、越人道，人就越重视自己的生活，越不想谈冲突和牺牲。人人都能安心追求自己的幸福，这本来就是值得追求的。

所以我越来越觉得，厌倦政治没有错。真正值得警惕的，是有一天连“我想过什么样的生活”都不再能够由自己决定。

去年底有一份民调，里面一个数字我看了很久：对政府编列的2026年度9,495亿新台币国防预算，20到24岁的年轻人有54%赞成，只有22%不赞成。说自己厌倦政治的是你们，在守护这座岛这件事上表态最清楚的，也是你们。厌倦政治，和不在乎这座岛，从来就是两回事。

我在你们身上看到的，是温柔，也是坚强。台湾的年轻人，我祝福你们。

一个爱台湾的中国人

2026年10月4日

民调资料来源：

1. 台湾民意基金会，2023年6月民调，调查时间：2023年6月12日至13日。

https://www.tpof.org/%E7%B2%BE%E9%81%B8%E6%96%87%E7%AB%A0/2023%E5%B9%B46%E6%9C%88%E3%80%8C%E6%94%BF%E9%BB%A8%E7%AB%B6%E7%88%AD%E3%80%81%E7%B8%BD%E7%B5%B1%E8%81%B2%E6%9C%9B%E8%88%872024%E5%8F%B0%E7%81%A3%E7%B8%BD%E7%B5%B1%E9%81%B8%E8%88%89%E3%80%8D/ 

2. 美丽岛电子报，2026年4月国政民调，调查时间：2026年4月22日至24日。

https://my-formosa.com.tw/DOC_225352.htm

3.美丽岛电子报，2026年6月国政民调，调查时间：2026年6月22日至24日。

https://m.my-formosa.com.tw/DOC_226926.htm

4. TVBS民调中心，2026年5月台北市长民调，调查时间：2026年5月21日至26日。

https://news.tvbs.com.tw/politics/3214850

5. 信民两岸研究协会，2026年9月台北市长民调，调查时间：2026年9月16日至18日。

https://news.tvbs.com.tw/politics/4026020

6. 台湾民意基金会，2025年11月国防预算民调，调查时间：2025年11月10至12日。

https://www.tpof.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/11/20251116-%E3%80%8C%E5%9C%8B%E4%BA%BA%E5%B0%8D2026%E8%B6%85%E9%AB%98%E5%9C%8B%E9%98%B2%E9%A0%90%E7%AE%97%E7%9A%84%E6%85%8B%E5%BA%A6%E3%80%8D%E5%8F%B0%E7%81%A3%E6%B0%91%E6%84%8F%E5%9F%BA%E9%87%91%E6%9C%8311%E6%9C%88%E5%8D%B3%E6%99%82%E6%B0%91%E8%AA%BF%E4%B9%8B2.pdf

编辑：张致君 校对：孔祥庆 翻译：周敏

A Letter to Taiwan’s Youth

Author:Cai Shiwen

To the youth of Taiwan:

I come from China and love Taiwan. There are some words I want to write down for you, hoping we can have the opportunity to sit down and talk.

First of all, I want to say that I can understand you are tired. From childhood to adulthood, every single election has been described as a “decisive battle,” and every once in a while the news reminds you that the opposite shore is conducting military drills again. On the other side, you just want to strive to live a happy life.

This exhaustion can be seen in polls. Before the 2024 general election, a poll by the Taiwanese Public Opinion Foundation in June 2023 expressed this sentiment of young people very clearly: among voters aged 20 to 24, Ko Wen-je’s support rate reached as high as 67%, far higher than Lai Ching-te’s 8.8% and Hou Yu-ih’s 7.4%; among those aged 25 to 34, Ko Wen-je also led with 40%, compared to Lai Ching-te’s 28% and Hou Yu-ih’s 13%. “Stop arguing about unification and independence; take care of our lives first”—this spoke for the aspirations of many Taiwanese youth at that time.

After Ko Wen-je became embroiled in legal cases, the Taiwan People’s Party’s favorability noticeably rebounded downward. According to a Formosa Electronic Newsletter poll in April 2026, the unfavorability rating of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) among those aged 20 to 29 reached 54.5% at one point; but by June, the DPP’s favorability in this age group (44.3%) was already slightly higher than its unfavorability (40.3%), whereas the unfavorability ratings of both the Kuomintang (KMT) and the Taiwan People’s Party exceeded fifty percent. However, in both polls, no political party gained over 50% favorability among young people. Many Taiwanese youth did not stably lean toward any single party. What this reveals is perhaps a kind of exhaustion with party politics.

Wanting a stable job, an affordable house, and a life that can be planned—these wishes have zero mistakes. You are certainly entitled to grow weary of those repeatedly appearing political slogans, and you can choose not to chase after elections and cross-strait news every day. Politics was never supposed to swallow a person’s life.

But precisely because you are already very tired, I even more want to tell you some things I have seen with my own eyes. This is not to make you more anxious, nor is it to make you live in the fear of war. How to view it and how to choose is for you to judge.

Taiwan in My Eyes

In Taiwan, especially in Tainan, what often makes me stop in my tracks are those small shops on street corners. Many have been open for decades, passed down to the second and third generations. They are not in a rush to expand; they simply do the exact same thing well year after year. A person dares to stake their entire lifetime on a small shop because they believe that today’s dedication will still reap a harvest tomorrow.

More than ten years ago, when I was traveling in Hualien, I hired a tour guide. He supported the KMT. Knowing roughly that I came from China, he spoke quite a bit of “cross-strait family” talk along the way. Inside I did not agree, but I simply did not say it out of my mouth. Yet what made me remember him was another matter.

The weather that day was bad, and the scenic spot he took me to was finished visiting very quickly. He probably felt embarrassed for collecting money without letting me enjoy myself to the fullest, so he drove an extra hour to take me to a natural sulfur hot spring known only to locals. Seeing that I liked it there, a relieved smile appeared on his face. Whenever I think of Taiwan these years, I often recall that expression. This kindness had nothing to do with which political party he supported.

These things, which are ordinary to the extreme in Taiwan, have never been taken for granted in my country. In China, a small shop open for twenty years might have to shut down because of a single piece of paper notice, and no one needs to explain anything to you. The sudden “double reduction” policy in 2021 almost destroyed China’s once-massive subject-matter tutoring industry. Those who publicly challenge official narratives face being summoned for talks at best, or imprisonment at worst. In early 2020, Wuhan doctor Li Wenliang warned everyone in a classmate chat group to guard against a new coronavirus, and was reprimanded by the police for reasons including publishing and spreading untruthful information; a month later, he died of COVID-19. In the “July 9 crackdown” of 2015, a large number of human rights lawyers, legal workers, and citizens were taken away, summoned, or detained; lawyer Wang Quanzhang was later sentenced under the crime of “subversion of state power.” In China, most people have learned to survive first and talk about everything else later.

The Same Youth, Different Fates

In Taiwan, you can publicly criticize the mayor, criticize the president, take to the streets to protest, and go to work and school as usual the next day. In the spring of 2014, Taiwanese students occupied the Legislative Yuan. No matter how one evaluates that movement, those who participated later faced ballots, public opinion, and the courts.

In the autumn of that same year, Hong Kong’s youth raised umbrellas and persisted on the streets for 79 days, demanding genuine universal suffrage. That year, 17-year-old Agnes Chow was the spokesperson for Scholarism. In August 2020, she was arrested for allegedly violating the National Security Law, and in December of the same year, she was sentenced and imprisoned for participating in an unauthorized assembly. After her release from prison, her passport was withheld for nearly three years. In 2023, she applied to study abroad. She later stated that before retrieving her passport and being permitted to leave the country, national security personnel accompanied her to visit the Reform and Opening-Up Exhibition in Shenzhen; after returning, she even wrote a handwritten letter thanking the police for arranging for her to understand “the great development of the motherland.” She said that she had written several such letters during those few months. Upon arriving in Toronto, she announced she would no longer return to Hong Kong to report. Soon after, she was listed on the wanted list by the Hong Kong police.

Cyd Ho is a practicing lawyer and also the former vice-chairperson of the Hong Kong Alliance in Support of Patriotic Democratic Movements of China, long participating in the annual Victoria Park June 4th candlelight vigil. In 2021, she was sent to prison for calling on citizens to attend the vigil. In court, she said that if one must speak of “incitement,” it was the people of Hong Kong who incited her to act according to her conscience, and she suffered punishment for this with no regrets and no remorse. During those years when many people left Hong Kong, she stayed behind. On September 11, 2026, she was sentenced to 7 years and 3 months in prison under the crime of “inciting subversion of state power.”

In Hong Kong, this is the price for demanding universal suffrage or speaking for a single candle.

In November 2022, following a fire in Urumqi, youth across China raised blank sheets of paper. Not a single word was written on the paper because they knew writing anything could be a crime. Afterward, participant and young girl Cao Zhixin recorded a video before being taken away, asking everyone to keep questioning why they were arrested and not to let them disappear soundlessly. A documentary filmmaker named Chen Pinlin who filmed the white paper protests in Shanghai was sentenced to three and a half years in prison under the crime of “picking quarrels and provoking trouble” for producing and releasing the documentary 乌鲁木齐中路 (Middle Urumqi Road).

The same youth, with the same desire to speak for their own future—yet in Taiwan, in Hong Kong, and in China, what they get in return are completely different fates.

Inside That Wall, Someone Has Always Been Watching You

I do not blame the many people inside China who believe unification is the only answer. What stories a person hears and what world they see from childhood will influence how they understand their country and future. Many people are accustomed to thinking from the perspectives of the country, the nation, and the collective, yet they do not know that an ordinary person can also ask: What kind of life do I myself want? When power can once again arbitrarily and at any time intervene, and ordinary people find it hard to demand explanations and accountability, over time, people learn to flow along with the grand situation first.

There are also other people in China. They are not the majority, but they exist. When Hong Kong’s youth took to the streets in 2019, hundreds of university students residing in mainland China wrote handwritten notes to pay tribute to Hong Kong, attaching partial photos of their student IDs or identity cards to prove they genuinely came from China. Later, someone compiled these photos into a video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mKArxVyqFOs

Therefore, when I say I hope such a place can be well guarded, I do not feel you carry any historic mission on your shoulders. You have no obligation to be responsible for the people on that side, and even less obligation to sacrifice your life just to prove something.

I merely want to tell you: the choices you possess are, to some people who temporarily have no choices, far more precious than you imagine. You can vote, you can criticize the government, you can take to the streets, you can say “no,” and you can choose not to believe in any political slogans.

These matters may have become so ordinary to you that they are not worth mentioning, but precisely because they are ordinary, they deserve to be cherished.

An Election Not Just Concerning Municipal Administration

November 28 is the nine-in-one local elections, with 22 counties and cities electing mayors and local representatives on the same day. This is the first nationwide election since the mass recall movement of 2025, and is also widely viewed as the opening battle for the 2028 presidential election. The Central Election Commission estimates that there are over 600,000 first-time voters this time.

Local elections mostly talk about childcare, metro systems, and market renovations—precisely the aspects of life you care about the most. But this year in Taipei, life and cross-strait relations happened to intertwine.

Incumbent Mayor Chiang Wan-an is striving for re-election, while the DPP recruited Legislator Kuma Pao (沈伯洋) in May to challenge him. Pao is a target named by Beijing: the Taiwan Affairs Office listed him in the “Taiwan independence diehards” list in October 2024; in October 2025, the Chongqing Municipal Public Security Bureau further placed him under criminal investigation on suspicion of the crime of “seceding the country” under grounds such as “initiating and establishing the ‘Taiwan independence’ secessionist organization Kuroshio Academy (黑熊学院).” A Taiwanese citizen running for office in Taiwan is nevertheless listed as a criminal prosecution target by China’s public security organs.

Chiang Wan-an has his municipal performance, and Pao has his platform; voters should naturally examine both individuals using municipal standards. I bring this matter up not to canvass votes for anyone, but because it lets me see that Beijing’s pressure relies not merely on warplanes across the strait, but also extends into Taiwanese people’s own elections. You can criticize your own government, you can replace your own mayor, and you can hate all political parties. You can choose not to believe in any political slogans. But there is one matter I hope you will always decide for yourselves: who can be elected, and who cannot. You should not let Beijing decide whom you should fear and whom you cannot vote for. Please go vote as usual, free from intimidation, and cast your ballot for the person you believe is right.

This time, young people’s votes are also particularly hard to predict. In the Taipei mayoral race, different polls even yielded quite different results. A TVBS poll in May showed that among Taipei voters aged 20 to 29 with voting intentions, Chiang Wan-an led Pao with 60% to 37%; by September, a poll by the Shinmin Cross-Strait Research Association showed that among 20 to 29-year-olds, Pao led Chiang Wan-an 42.8% to 37.8%, with Pao leading among 30 to 39-year-olds as well.

The methodologies of the two polls are not identical: TVBS used landline telephone sampling only and counted only those with voting intentions; the Shinmin poll added mobile phone samples and targeted all adult citizens. Therefore, how much of this gap stems from genuine shifts in public opinion and how much stems from sampling methods remains hard to judge at present.

Yet at least one point is very clear: Taiwanese youth’s votes are not locked down by any political party. They can vote based on municipal administration, or they can vote based on cross-strait issues; they can support this person, or switch to another person next time.

This “looking at the individual rather than the party” is a healthy fastidiousness rather than apathy. When I was in China, I never had the opportunity to be fastidious like this. In Hong Kong, holding a primary election can earn one ten years in prison; in China, raising a blank sheet of paper can make a person vanish entirely. In Taiwan, you only need to step into a polling station. Whom to vote for is your business.

What Most Deserves to Be Guarded Is Choice

Many societies have walked this road: the more affluent and humane people become, the more they value their own lives, and the more they wish not to talk about conflict and sacrifice. When everyone can peacefully pursue their own happiness, this in itself is worth pursuing.

Therefore, I increasingly feel that growing weary of politics is not wrong. What truly deserves vigilance is the day when even “what kind of life I want to live” can no longer be decided by oneself.

At the end of last year, there was a poll containing a figure I looked at for a long time: regarding the 949.5 billion New Taiwan Dollars defense budget compiled by the government for fiscal year 2026, 54% of youth aged 20 to 24 approved, while only 22% disapproved. Those who said they were weary of politics are you; those who expressed themselves most clearly on guarding this island are also you. Growing weary of politics, and not caring about this island, have always been two entirely different things.

What I see in you is gentleness, yet also strength. Youth of Taiwan, I bless you.

A Chinese Person Who Loves Taiwan

October 4, 2026

Poll Sources:

Taiwanese Public Opinion Foundation, June 2023 Poll, survey dates: June 12–13, 2023.

Formosa Electronic Newsletter, April 2026 National Affairs Poll, survey dates: April 22–24, 2026.

Formosa Electronic Newsletter, June 2026 National Affairs Poll, survey dates: June 22–24, 2026.

TVBS Poll Center, May 2026 Taipei Mayoral Poll, survey dates: May 21–26, 2026.

Shinmin Cross-Strait Research Association, September 2026 Taipei Mayoral Poll, survey dates: September 16–18, 2026.

Taiwanese Public Opinion Foundation, November 2025 Defense Budget Poll, survey dates: November 10–12, 2025.

Editor: Zhang Zhijun    Proofreader: Kong Xiangqing    Translator: Zhou Min

作者：罗翔

中国这些年最喜欢讲“弯道超车”。但如果把产业发展的路径扒开来看，会发现一个尴尬事实：很多所谓的自主崛起，并不是凭空从零开始，而是在全球产业链转移、国际订单和西方企业严苛标准中，一点一点“喂”出来的。为什么中国电子产业发展得这么快？一个重要原因，就是长期承接惠普、戴尔、苹果等跨国企业的制造订单。外企把产品要求、质量标准和验收规则带进来，中国供应商才真正知道：一块铜箔、一颗螺丝、一个连接器不是“能做出来”就算合格，而是必须满足尺寸、公差、可靠性、寿命和一致性等一整套指标。这其实是一种非常现实的工业教育。企业不是看几份图纸就突然拥有工业能力的。真正的能力，是在一次次订单、失败、返工和退货中磨出来的。客户告诉你哪里不合格，供应商再改；客户提出更高要求，供应商再升级。久而久之，一条成熟的产业链就这样形成了。汽车工业同样如此。几十年来的国际合作带来了零部件体系、生产管理、质量控制和全球供应链标准。中国企业从“照着造”，逐渐发展到“自己造”，再到“自己设计”。今天中国汽车产业拥有庞大的供应链体系，与这些长期积累当然脱不开关系。航空工业也是类似逻辑。中国企业参与波音、空客等国际航空产业链，在机翼、机身结构件、起落架等领域接受国际标准训练。真正重要的，不只是学会制造一个零件，而是学会什么叫航空级质量控制、材料一致性、结构可靠性和适航标准。所以，后来中国能够推出自己的民用飞机，并不意味着过去几十年的国际产业链经验消失了，恰恰相反，这些积累正是后来发展的基础。至于运-10，能造出一架飞机，与能不能建立完整的民航工业体系，是两回事。飞机能飞起来，不等于拥有成熟的民航产业。问题到了航天领域，就变得更加有意思了。因为航天恰恰是一个很难依靠西方产业转移完成工业启蒙的领域。苹果可以给你订单，波音可以给你零部件制造订单，但火箭呢？核心技术、关键材料、发动机、控制系统、飞行软件和测试体系，并不存在一个成熟的西方企业把完整订单体系搬过来，告诉你：“按照这个标准生产。”于是，一个现实问题出现了：即使你知道可回收火箭应该怎么飞，也未必知道组成它的成千上万个零部件，怎样稳定、可靠、批量地制造出来。这就是“知道技术路线”和“真正拥有产业能力”之间的鸿沟。马斯克和SpaceX已经用长期试验验证了可重复使用火箭的路线：垂直起飞、发动机深度节流、姿态控制、返回制导、垂直着陆和重复使用。既然路线已经有人走通，后来者照着走，为什么不能明显更快？因为工程不是电子游戏，更不是把别人的攻略抄下来就能通关。设计图不会自动生产发动机，参数不会自动培养供应商，一次试验成功也不会自动变成稳定量产。真正困难的地方，往往藏在不起眼的细节里：高温合金能否稳定生产？密封件能否经受极端温度和压力？阀门能否保持数千次动作的一致性？隔热材料批次之间会不会出现差异？焊缝有没有微小缺陷？传感器在剧烈振动下还能不能正常工作？这些问题单独看都不起眼，但叠加起来，就是火箭能不能安全返回的生死线。所以，真正决定可回收火箭研发进度的的不只是总设计师手里的图纸，更是整个供应链背后的工业基础。所谓后发优势也只有在产业基础足够成熟时才真正存在。如果别人已经把题目做完，而你连每一种材料、每一个零件、每一套测试设备都需要重新摸索，那么你拿到的不是答案，只是别人写在黑板上的一句话：“这道题可以这样解。”剩下的步骤，仍然要自己摔无数次跤。更讽刺的是我们常把“产业链完整”等同于“工业能力全面领先”。可真正的工业能力，不是工厂多、论文多、宣传片宏伟，而是面对苛刻要求时能不能稳定制造；零件出问题时能不能找到原因；连续生产时能不能保持一致；系统失败后能不能把失败变成下一代产品的经验。别人用了二十年烧钱、爆炸、失败、复盘，才把路线跑通。后来者可以少走弯路，却不能跳过所有试错，更不能跳过供应链成熟、人才积累、测试体系和质量文化的形成。于是熟悉的口号又响起来：“弯道超车，遥遥领先！”只是火箭升空之前，工业能力也得先升空。宣传口号可以一夜之间遥遥领先，供应链却只能用十年、二十年，一颗螺丝、一只阀门、一块材料地把“领先”拧出来。火箭有一个很讨厌的特点：它不看宣传稿，也不看热搜，更不会因为“全球领先”四个字就改变物理规律。发动机不会因为喊“自主可控”就自动提高寿命，阀门不会因为“遥遥领先”就自动完成可靠性验证。那些藏在火箭内部、没人拍照、没人宣传的零件，也不会因为一场盛大的发射仪式就突然拥有几十年的工业积累。它们只认一个东西：你到底能不能把它稳定地造出来。因为弯道可以画在PPT里，领先可以写在标题里，唯独火箭落地以后，还得看看它还能不能再飞一次。当一个国家越来越擅长宣布“遥遥领先”，却仍然需要用十年、二十年去补足一颗螺丝、一个阀门、一种材料背后所需的工业积累时，我们究竟是在实现真正的弯道超车，还是只是在不断制造一种“已经领先”的感觉？

编辑：周志刚  校对：王滨 翻译：周敏

The Eastern Power Overtakes on the Bends and Is Far Ahead, So Why Can’t It Manage Reusable Rockets?

Author: Luo Xiang

Abstract: The Communist Party of China has long publicized that Chinese industry is far ahead, but in reality, mature technologies in civilian industry mainly rely on transfers from Western enterprises. China lacks core technologies in the aerospace industry field.

In recent years, China’s favorite slogan has been “overtaking on the bends.” But if you examine the process of industrial development, you will discover an embarrassing fact: many so-called independent rises did not start out of thin air from zero, but were “fed” bit by bit amid global supply chain transfers, international orders, and the rigorous standards of Western enterprises.

Why did China’s electronics industry develop so fast? An important reason is the long-term undertaking of manufacturing orders from multinational enterprises such as HP, Dell, and Apple. Foreign companies brought in product requirements, quality standards, and acceptance rules, and only then did Chinese suppliers truly learn: a piece of copper foil, a screw, or a connector is not considered qualified merely because it “can be made,” but must satisfy a whole set of metrics including dimensions, tolerances, reliability, lifespan, and consistency. This is actually a very realistic industrial education.

Enterprises do not suddenly possess industrial capabilities just by looking at a few blueprints. True capability is ground out through order after order, failure after failure, rework, and returned goods. The customer tells you where it is unqualified, and the supplier modifies it; the customer raises higher requirements, and the supplier upgrades again. Over time, a mature supply chain is formed in this manner.

The automotive industry follows the same logic. Decades of international cooperation brought component systems, production management, quality control, and global supply chain standards. Chinese enterprises gradually developed from “manufacturing by copying” to “manufacturing by themselves,” and then to “designing by themselves.” That China’s automotive industry today possesses a huge supply chain system is, of course, inseparable from these long-term accumulations.

The aviation industry follows a similar logic. Chinese enterprises participated in international aviation supply chains such as Boeing and Airbus, receiving international standard training in areas like wings, fuselage structural components, and landing gear. What is truly important is not just learning how to manufacture a part, but learning what is meant by aviation-grade quality control, material consistency, structural reliability, and airworthiness standards.

Therefore, that China was later able to launch its own civilian aircraft does not mean the international supply chain experience of the past few decades vanished; quite the contrary, these accumulations were precisely the foundation for later development. As for the Y-10, being able to build one airplane and being able to establish a complete civil aviation industrial system are two different things. An airplane being able to fly up does not equal possessing a mature civil aviation industry.

When it comes to the field of aerospace, the problem becomes even more interesting. Because aerospace happens to be a field where it is very difficult to complete industrial enlightenment by relying on Western industrial transfer. Apple can give you orders, Boeing can give you parts, but what about rockets? Core technologies, key materials, engines, control systems, flight software, and testing systems—there does not exist a mature Western enterprise that moves a complete order system over and tells you: “Produce according to this standard.”

Thus, a realistic question emerges: even if you know how a reusable rocket should fly, you might not know how the tens of thousands of components that make it up can be manufactured stably, reliably, and in mass quantities. This is the chasm between “knowing the technical route” and “truly possessing industrial capability.”

Musk and SpaceX have already verified the route of reusable rockets through long-term testing: vertical takeoff, deep engine throttling, attitude control, return guidance, vertical landing, and reuse. Since someone has already walked the route through, why can’t latecomers follow it and be noticeably faster?

Because engineering is not a video game, let alone clearing a level by copying someone else’s walkthrough. Blueprints do not automatically produce engines, parameters do not automatically cultivate suppliers, and a single successful test does not automatically turn into stable mass production.

Where it is truly difficult is often hidden in inconspicuous details: Can high-temperature alloys be produced stably? Can seals withstand extreme temperatures and pressures? Can valves maintain consistency over thousands of actions? Will differences appear between batches of insulation materials? Are there tiny defects in the weld seams? Can sensors still function normally under violent vibration? These questions look inconspicuous individually, but stacked together, they form the line of life and death regarding whether a rocket can return safely.

Therefore, what truly determines the speed of reusable rockets is not merely the blueprints in the hands of the chief designer, but the industrial foundation behind the entire supply chain. The so-called latecomer advantage truly exists only when the industrial foundation is sufficiently mature.

If others have already finished the exam questions, while you still need to explore anew every single material, every single part, and every single set of test equipment, then what you have obtained is not the answer, but merely a sentence written on the blackboard by others: “This question can be solved this way.” The remaining steps still require you to stumble and fall countless times yourself.

Even more ironically, we often equate a “complete supply chain” with “comprehensively leading industrial capabilities.” But true industrial capability is not about having many factories, many papers, or magnificent promotional videos, but whether you can manufacture stably when facing rigorous requirements; whether you can find the cause when a part encounters a problem; whether you can maintain consistency during continuous production; and whether you can turn failure into experience for the next generation of products after a system failure.

Others spent twenty years funding development, enduring explosions and failures, and reviewing what went wrong, and conducting post-mortems before running the route through. Latecomers can take fewer detours, but cannot skip all trial and error, nor can they skip the maturation of the supply chain, the accumulation of talent, and the formation of testing systems and quality culture. So the familiar slogan resounds again: “Overtake on the bends, far ahead!”

It’s just that before the rocket ascends into the sky, industrial capability must ascend first. Promotional slogans can become far ahead overnight, but the supply chain can only build that lead, one screw, one valve, and one material at a time with one screw, one valve, and one piece of material over ten or twenty years.

Rockets have a very annoying characteristic: they do not read publicity drafts, nor do they look at trending searches, and even less will they change physical laws because of the four words “globally leading.” Engines will not automatically increase their lifespan because you shout “independently controllable,” and valves will not automatically complete reliability verification because of “far ahead.” Those parts hidden inside the rocket that no one photographs and no one publicizes will not suddenly possess decades of industrial accumulation because of a grand launch ceremony either. They recognize only one thing: whether you can actually manufacture it stably.

Because bends can be drawn in PPTs, and being ahead can be written in titles, but only after the rocket lands must one see whether it can fly once more.

When a country becomes increasingly adept at announcing “far ahead,” yet still needs to use ten or twenty years to make up the industrial accumulation of a screw, a valve, and a material, are we achieving a true overtake on the bends, or are we merely continuously manufacturing a feeling of “already leading”?

Editor: Zhou Zhigang    Proofreader: Wang Bin    Translator: Zhou Min

作者：陀先润     

1989年，柏林墙倒塌的那个冬天，北京的中南海里有一批人在认真地思考一个问题：下一步怎么办。

苏联解体了，东欧的共产党政权一个接一个垮掉，全球共产主义运动跌入了历史最低谷。中共自己在那年六月刚刚经历了天安门事件，国际社会的制裁和孤立让北京喘不过气来。与此同时，经营了几十年的海外武装革命布局，也在那几年里陆续走到了尽头：马共1989年解散，缅共1989年分裂，泰共早在八十年代初就已经瓦解。

那一批人得出了一个结论：武装革命这条路走不通了，不是因为理想错了，而是因为工具过时了。要继续扩展影响力，需要换一套工具。

这套新工具在1994年开始成型，内部有一个代号，后来被称为大外宣工程。它的核心思路是：不再用枪，改用钱；不再扶持游击队，改为影响媒体、收买政客、渗透学术界；不再在丛林里打游击，改为在议会大厅里布局。

换句话说，棋盘没有变，棋子的种类变了。

2003年到2004年，大外宣工程进入第二阶段，规模大幅扩展。中联部在这一轮重建里正式转型，从一个支持海外共产党武装斗争的机构，变成了一个系统性影响各国政党、议会和媒体的机构。与此同时，统一战线工作部的海外业务也大幅扩张，开始在全球华人华侨社区里建立更密集的网络。这两个机构分工合作，一个负责影响外国政党和政客，一个负责管控海外华人，共同构成了新时代中共对外渗透的两条主线。

德国是最早意识到这件事的西方国家之一，但即便如此，德国也用了二十年才认识到这一问题。2024年德国宪法保卫局发出警告的时候，中联部已经在德国议会里经营了将近二十年，有议员、有顾问、有各种以学术交流和商业合作为名建立起来的关系网络。那些和中联部有关联的德国政界人士，大多数并不知道自己在和一个情报组织打交道，他们以为自己只是在参加一个正常的国际交流项目，只是在接受一笔合理的演讲费或者咨询费。

这正是新工具和旧工具最大的区别。旧工具，也就是武装革命那套，棋子是知道自己在做什么的，他们有明确的政治信仰，知道自己在为谁战斗，哪怕最后被抛弃，至少曾经清醒过。使用新工具时，许多棋子甚至不知道自己是棋子。他们以为自己在做生意，在做学术，在增进国际理解，实际上已经被编进了一张他们看不见的网里。

澳大利亚是另一个典型案例。2017年，澳大利亚媒体曝光了一系列和中共有关联的政治献金案，多名澳大利亚议员和政党接受了来自有中共背景的华人商人的巨额捐款，其中有人在接受捐款后，在涉及中国的议题上改变了立场。这件事引发了轩然大波，澳大利亚随后修改了外国干预法，把接受外国政府资金并为其利益游说定为刑事犯罪。澳大利亚和中国的关系随之急剧恶化，贸易战打了好几年。

加拿大的情况更复杂。加拿大情报安全局在2023年发布报告，确认中共通过统战部网络干预了加拿大的联邦选举，支持亲北京的候选人，打压对中共持批评态度的政治人物。干预的手段包括向特定选区的华裔选民散布定向信息，组织华人社区团体为特定候选人拉票，以及通过微信群传播针对特定政客的负面内容。这些操作在技术上和五十年代美国唐人街的华人帮会组织动员选民的做法如出一辙，只是平台从街头换成了手机屏幕。

孔子学院是这套新工具里最广为人知的一个，也是最容易被误解的一个。很多人把孔子学院理解为单纯的文化推广机构，或者单纯的情报搜集机构，这两种理解都不完整。孔子学院的核心功能，是在各国高校里建立一个长期存在的关系节点，通过这个节点影响学术讨论的边界，让某些话题变得敏感，让某些研究方向变得困难，同时培养一批对中国持正面态度的学者和学生，让他们成为未来各国政界、学界、媒体界的友好力量。这是一个以十年、二十年为周期的长期投资，不是短期的情报行动。

美国在2019年之后开始大规模关闭孔子学院，目前大部分已经关闭。但孔子学院关掉了，统战部在美国高校里的其他渠道并没有关掉，只是换了名字，换了组织形式，继续存在。

海外华人社区是这套新工具里最容易被忽视的一个维度，也是最深入的一个。统战部在全球华人聚居地区建立了密集的组织网络，以同乡会、商会、学生会、文化协会的名义出现，覆盖了从纽约到悉尼、从多伦多到伦敦的几乎所有主要华人社区。这些组织的功能是多重的：监控海外华人的政治立场，向北京汇报持异见者的活动，在选举期间动员华裔选民支持特定候选人，以及在关键时刻组织华人社区表达对北京政策的支持。

对于住在海外的普通华人来说，这张网是无处不在又几乎看不见的。你参加同乡会的年夜饭，你在微信群里转发春节祝福，你参加商会组织的商务论坛，你不知道这些活动中，有多少与统战部的网络存在关联。你更不知道，如果你在公开场合批评了北京的某项政策，你的名字可能已经被记录在某个地方，等到你的父母或者兄弟姐妹需要在国内办什么事的时候，那个记录会以某种方式发挥作用。

这是一种比枪更有效的控制，因为它不需要任何明显的强制，它靠的是人们对可能后果的模糊恐惧。

华为、中兴这些企业是新工具箱里的另一个重要组成部分。西方国家对华为的担忧不只是技术层面的，不只是担心通讯设备里有后门，更深层的担忧是：当一个国家的关键基础设施大量依赖来自中国的技术和设备，这个国家在面对来自北京的压力时，还有多少独立行动的空间？这种风险并非纯粹的假设，而是现实中的地缘政治问题。

把这些新工具和本系列前面讲的那些旧故事放在一起看，会发现一件令人不安的事：逻辑完全一样。

五十年代，中联部向马共的领导人承诺支持，让他们继续打仗，然后在需要改善和马来西亚关系的时候，一个电话停掉所有援助。今天，统战部向海外华人社区的领袖们提供各种资源和荣誉，让他们在当地社区里为北京发声，然后在他们不再有用或者开始表达独立立场的时候，通过各种渠道施压，让他们知道不合作的代价。

五十年代，中共向法塔赫派遣军事顾问和政治顾问，帮助阿拉法特建立组织架构，但同时保留着随时切割关系的选项。今天，中共通过“一带一路”向发展中国家提供大量贷款，并参与基础设施建设，帮助这些国家的领导人建立政治遗产，但同时在贷款协议里埋下各种条款，确保北京在需要的时候可以把这些关系转化为政治筹码。

棋子的形态变了，棋手的逻辑没有变。

习近平上台之后，这套新工具的使用力度大幅加强，相关行动也变得更加急迫和冒进。原本那些需要以十年、二十年为单位慢慢经营的布局，开始被要求在更短的时间内产生可见的效果。这种急迫性带来了一个意想不到的后果：暴露。

澳大利亚的政治献金案是暴露，加拿大的选举干预报告是暴露，德国的议员被策反是暴露，黑命贵运动背后的中共资金链被追溯是暴露。这些暴露接连发生，不是因为西方情报机构突然变得更聪明，而是因为操作变得太急、太粗，留下了太多可以被追溯的痕迹。

邓小平当年用了几十年的时间，把中共在东南亚的武装革命布局悄悄收掉，没有引发大规模的国际反应。习近平用了不到十年，把几代人辛苦建立的新型渗透网络大规模暴露在西方民主国家的视野之下，触发了一场全球范围内针对中共影响力行动的系统性反制。

这个代价有多大，目前尚难看清其全貌，但可以确定的是，那张花了几十年才织成的网，正在被一个网眼一个网眼地拆开。

但网被拆开之后，那些被编进网里的人怎么办？那些在海外华人社区里参与了统战活动的人，那些接受过中共关联资金的外国政客，那些在孔子学院里工作过的学者，那些在不知情的情况下成为棋子的人。他们的处境，和当年在缅北丛林里的知青、在马来西亚丛林里的马共游击队员在本质上是一样的：他们被编进了一个自己看不清楚的游戏里，等到游戏结束，没有人会替他们收拾残局。

马共的普通战士老死在泰国边境的旅游景点里；缅北的知青回到中国之后两手空空，一无所有。那些今天被卷入统战部网络的棋子，将来会有什么样的结局，历史已经给出了足够清晰的参考答案。

这个系列从缅北丛林里哭着冲锋的年轻人开始，到这里结束。不同的时代，不同的棋子，同一只手，同一个逻辑。

那只手从来没有停过。

编辑：胡景 校对：熊辩 翻译：周敏

Section 8: Changing Faces to Continue — Old Tricks in the New Era

Author: Tuo Xianrun

Abstract: After the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) overseas armed revolutions suffered setbacks, it shifted its external influence strategy from supporting armed struggle to using funds, political relations, media, academia, and overseas Chinese community networks as its primary tools for influence operations. The whole text takes “the forms of the chess pieces have changed, but the logic of the chess player remains unchanged” as its main thread: whether they were the overseas guerrillas of the past, or people participating in relevant political, commercial, academic, and overseas Chinese community activities today, all may be incorporated into a strategy they cannot fully see clearly, and will bear the consequences alone once they lose their utility value.

In 1989, in the winter when the Berlin Wall collapsed, a group of people inside Beijing’s Zhongnanhai was seriously contemplating one question: what to do next.

The Soviet Union had collapsed, Communist regimes in Eastern Europe fell one after another, and the global Communist movement plunged into its lowest historical trough. The CCP itself had just experienced the Tiananmen Square incident in June of that year, and the sanctions and isolation from the international community left Beijing breathless. At the same time, the overseas armed revolution layout operated for decades also reached its end one after another during those years: the Malayan Communist Party dissolved in 1989, the Communist Party of Burma split in 1989, and the Communist Party of Thailand had already collapsed in the early 1980s.

That group of people reached a conclusion: the path of armed revolution was no longer viable—not because the ideal was wrong, but because the tools were outdated. To continue expanding influence, a new set of tools was needed.

This new set of tools began to take shape in 1994, known internally under a code name that was later referred to as the Grand External Propaganda Project (Da Waixuan Project). Its core line of thinking was: no longer use guns, but switch to money; no longer support guerrilla forces, but switch to influencing media, buying off politicians, and penetrating academia; no longer wage guerrilla warfare in the jungles, but switch to laying out operations in parliamentary halls.

In other words, the chessboard did not change; the types of chess pieces changed.

From 2003 to 2004, the Grand External Propaganda Project entered its second phase, expanding significantly in scale. The International Department of the CCP Central Committee officially transformed in this round of reconstruction, changing from an agency supporting overseas Communist armed struggles into an agency systematically influencing political parties, parliaments, and media of various countries. At the same time, the overseas operations of the United Front Work Department also expanded drastically, beginning to establish denser networks within overseas Chinese communities across the globe. These two agencies divided labor and cooperated—one responsible for influencing foreign political parties and politicians, and the other responsible for controlling and managing overseas Chinese—together constituting the two main threads of the CCP’s external penetration in the new era.

Germany was one of the earliest Western countries to realize this, but even so, it took them twenty years. When the German Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution issued a warning in 2024, the International Department had already been operating in the German parliament for nearly twenty years, possessing members of parliament, advisors, and various networks of relationships established in the name of academic exchanges and commercial cooperation. Most of those German political figures associated with the International Department did not know they were dealing with an intelligence organization; they thought they were merely participating in a normal international exchange project, merely accepting a reasonable lecture fee or consulting fee.

This is precisely the biggest difference between the new tools and the old tools. With the old tools—that is, the set of armed revolutions—the chess pieces knew what they were doing; they had clear political beliefs and knew for whom they were fighting; even if they were abandoned in the end, at least they had once been clear-minded. As for the chess pieces of the new tools, many do not even know they are chess pieces. They think they are doing business, conducting academic research, or enhancing international understanding, when in fact they have already been woven into a net they cannot see.

Australia is another typical case. In 2017, Australian media exposed a series of political donation cases associated with the CCP, in which multiple Australian MPs and political parties accepted huge donations from ethnic Chinese businessmen with CCP backgrounds, some of whom changed their stances on issues involving China after receiving the donations. This incident caused an uproar, and Australia subsequently amended its Foreign Interference Act, making it a criminal offense to accept foreign government funds and lobby for their interests. Relations between Australia and China rapidly deteriorated as a result, leading to a trade war that lasted for several years.

The situation in Canada is even more complex. The Canadian Security Intelligence Service issued a report in 2023 confirming that the CCP interfered in Canadian federal elections through the United Front Work Department network, supporting pro-Beijing candidates and suppressing political figures critical of the CCP. The methods of interference included disseminating targeted information to ethnic Chinese voters in specific ridings, organizing Chinese community groups to canvass for specific candidates, and spreading negative content targeting specific politicians through WeChat groups. Technically, these operations were identical to the practices of Chinese secret societies in American Chinatowns in the 1950s that organized and mobilized voters, except the platform shifted from street corners to mobile phone screens.

The Confucius Institute is one of the most widely known tools in this new set, as well as one of the most easily misunderstood. Many people understand Confucius Institutes merely as cultural promotion institutions or purely as intelligence gathering agencies; both understandings are incomplete. The core function of the Confucius Institute is to establish a long-term node of presence within higher education institutions in various countries, using this node to influence the boundaries of academic discussion, making certain topics sensitive, making certain research directions difficult, and simultaneously cultivating a group of scholars and students with positive attitudes toward China so that they become friendly forces in foreign political, academic, and media circles in the future. This is a long-term investment spanning ten- or twenty-year cycles, not a short-term intelligence operation.

The United States began closing Confucius Institutes on a large scale after 2019, and currently most have been shut down. However, even though Confucius Institutes were closed, the United Front Work Department’s other channels in American universities were not closed; they merely changed their names, changed their organizational forms, and continued to exist.

The overseas Chinese community is one of the most easily overlooked dimensions in this set of new tools, as well as the most deeply ingrained. The United Front Work Department has established dense organizational networks in areas worldwide where ethnic Chinese reside, appearing under the names of hometown associations, chambers of commerce, student associations, and cultural associations, covering almost all major Chinese communities from New York to Sydney, and from Toronto to London. The functions of these organizations are multiple: monitoring the political stances of overseas Chinese, reporting the activities of dissidents to Beijing, mobilizing ethnic Chinese voters during elections to support specific candidates, and organizing Chinese communities at critical moments to express support for Beijing’s policies.

For ordinary ethnic Chinese living overseas, this net is omnipresent yet almost invisible. You attend a hometown association’s New Year’s Eve dinner, you forward Spring Festival wishes in WeChat groups, you attend business forums organized by chambers of commerce—you do not know how much behind these activities is connected to the United Front Work Department’s network. You know even less that if you publicly criticize a policy of Beijing, your name might already be recorded somewhere, and when your parents or siblings need to get something done domestically in China, that record will come into play in some way.

This is a control more effective than guns, because it requires no explicit coercion; it relies on people’s vague fear of potential consequences.

Companies like Huawei and ZTE are another important component in the new toolbox. Western countries’ concerns regarding Huawei are not merely at the technical level—not just worrying about backdoors in communication equipment—the deeper concern is: when a country’s critical infrastructure relies heavily on technology and equipment from China, how much space for independent action does that country still have when facing pressure from Beijing? This question is not a hypothesis; it is a living geopolitical reality.

Looking at these new tools alongside the old stories told earlier in this series, one discovers a disturbing fact: the logic is completely identical.

In the 1950s, the International Department promised support to the leaders of the Malayan Communist Party to keep them fighting, and then, when relations with Malaysia needed improvement, stopped all aid with a single phone call. Today, the United Front Work Department offers various resources and honors to leaders in overseas Chinese communities to make them speak up for Beijing in their local communities, and then, when they are no longer useful or begin to express independent stances, exerts pressure through various channels to let them know the cost of non-cooperation.

In the 1950s, the CCP dispatched military advisors and political advisors to Fatah to help Arafat build an organizational structure, while retaining the option to sever ties at any time. Today, through the “Belt and Road Initiative,” the CCP exports vast amounts of loans and infrastructure to developing countries, helping leaders of these countries build political legacies, while embedding various clauses in loan agreements to ensure Beijing can convert these relationships into political bargaining chips when needed.

The forms of the chess pieces have changed, but the logic of the chess player remains unchanged.

After Xi Jinping came to power, the intensity of using this set of new tools was greatly enhanced, while simultaneously becoming more urgent and aggressive. Operations that originally needed to be cultivated slowly in units of ten or twenty years began to be required to produce visible results in a shorter timeframe. This sense of urgency brought an unexpected consequence: exposure.

Australia’s political donation case was an exposure, Canada’s election interference report was an exposure, the subversion of German MPs was an exposure, and the tracing of CCP funding lines behind the Black Lives Matter movement was an exposure. These exposures occurred one after another, not because Western intelligence agencies suddenly became smarter, but because the operations became too rushed, too crude, leaving behind too many traceable marks.

Deng Xiaoping spent decades back then quietly winding down the CCP’s armed revolution layout in Southeast Asia without triggering a large-scale international reaction. Xi Jinping used less than a decade to expose on a massive scale the new-style penetration network—painstakingly built over several generations—to the view of Western democratic nations, triggering a global, systematic countermeasure against CCP influence operations.

How great this price is cannot yet be seen in its entirety, but what is certain is that the net that took decades to weave is being unraveled mesh by mesh.

But after the net is unraveled, what happens to those who were woven into it? Those who participated in United Front activities in overseas Chinese communities, those foreign politicians who accepted CCP-related funds, those scholars who worked in Confucius Institutes, and those who became chess pieces without knowing it. Their situation is essentially identical to that of the educated youth in the jungles of northern Myanmar and the Malayan Communist Party guerrillas in the jungles of Malaysia back then: they were woven into a game they could not see clearly, and when the game ends, no one will clean up the mess for them.

Ordinary fighters of the Malayan Communist Party died of old age in tourist attractions on the Thai border; the educated youth in northern Myanmar returned to China empty-handed with nothing. What kind of ending will await the chess pieces woven into the United Front Work Department’s network today? History has already provided a sufficiently clear reference answer.

This series began with the young people charging and crying in the jungles of northern Myanmar, and ends here. Different eras, different chess pieces, the same hand, the same logic.

That hand has never stopped.

Editor: Hu Jing    Proofreader: Xiong Bian    Translator: Zhou Min