Marking Fourth Anniversary of Resistance Against Russian Invasion, Opposing Any Aid to Aggression
Reporting and Photography: Guan Yongjie
Editor: Zhong Ran
Managing Editor: Hu Lili
Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao
Translator: Ge Bing
On the afternoon of February 28, 2026, a rally titled “Stand with Ukraine: Four Years of Resisting Russian Invasion” was held in front of the Chinese Consulate in San Francisco, organized by the San Francisco chapter of the China Democracy Party. Participants called on the international community to continue supporting Ukraine, oppose the war of aggression, and scrutinize all forms of support for Russia’s war efforts.
Event organizers Fang Zheng and He Ying, along with initiator Chen Senfeng, served as hosts at the rally. The organizers stated that on February 24, 2022, Russia launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine. What the aggressor initially believed would be a swift campaign has instead evolved into a protracted war of attrition. Four years on, it has caused massive civilian and military casualties and triggered a severe humanitarian crisis. Beyond commemorating the victims, the rally emphasized the importance of upholding international law and opposing aggression.
In his address, organizer Chen Senfeng reviewed the backdrop of the war’s outbreak, noting that the invasion openly defied the international order. He stated that the Ukrainian people chose resistance over surrender under immense military pressure, “not only to defend their homeland but also to uphold the fundamental principles of a free society.” They guarded their homeland with their lives and defended freedom with unyielding resolve. They firmly believe that any form of tacit approval or compromise in the face of aggression will sow the seeds of greater conflict in the future.
Guo Zhijun, a member of the China Democratic Party, noted that the war has entered its fifth year, with prolonged bombardment shattering countless families and reducing cities to ruins. He emphasized that this conflict concerns sovereignty, liberty, and international norms, warning that “if aggression goes unchecked, the damage will extend beyond Ukraine, eroding the entire international community’s faith in justice.” He further urged nations to avoid any diplomatic or economic actions that might prolong the conflict.
Tang Qi, a probationary member of the China Democratic Party, criticized the Chinese Communist Party’s stance on Russia, questioning the discrepancy between its “neutrality” claims and actual actions. He called for halting all direct or indirect forms of war assistance and urged explicit condemnation of the aggression. “When invasion occurs, taking a stance is itself a choice; silence can become complicity.”
Jiang Shuqing stated that four years of war have not broken the will of Ukrainian society but have instead united more people. He emphasized that the values of freedom and democracy require concrete actions to uphold, warning, “If we turn a blind eye to aggression, any region could face a similar fate in the future.” He called on free societies to remain vigilant and united.
Wei Renxi, Director of the Sacramento Chapter of the China Democracy Party, pointed out that the Russia-Ukraine war reminds the world that sovereignty and human rights issues cannot be overshadowed by geopolitical interests. He believes that a clear stance against acts of aggression is a fundamental prerequisite for maintaining international order, and called on all parties to support peace and justice through concrete actions.
Spokesperson Guo Jianxin stated that opposing any form of military supply or war assistance represents the most fundamental respect for life. “When more people stand up to support the side under attack, we are defending not just a nation’s borders, but humanity’s shared commitment to peace and dignity.”
Additionally, participants Gao Junying, Wu Zhichuang, and others led the crowd in chanting slogans on-site.
— Support Ukraine, Defend Sovereignty
— Oppose Aggression, Protect Freedom
— Stop Aiding Russia, Stop the War
— Justice Will Prevail
— Glory to Ukraine
Attendees expressed profound shock and outrage at the war’s brutality and staggering casualties, particularly for those raised in peaceful times. They argued that dictators’ lust for power often thrusts civilians into the front lines of conflict, and that if the international community chooses to stand by or compromise for short-term gains, the ultimate cost will be irreparable. The rally proceeded with high spirits yet orderly conduct. Participants emphasized voicing their stance through reason and civic responsibility, pledging to continue expressing their position through peaceful means.
1,460 Days of Resilience and Evidence of Crimes: Written on the Fourth Anniversary of the Russia-Ukraine War
Author: Tang Qi
Editor: Huang Jizhou Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao Translator: Zhou Min
Abstract: As the Russia-Ukraine war enters its fifth year, it has caused massive civilian and military casualties, infrastructure destruction, and millions of refugees. Using data, the article condemns the Russian invasion and calls on the international community to uphold rules and justice, supporting Ukraine in achieving peace and reconstruction.
February 24, 2026. For the world, this may just be a marking on the long scale of history; but for Ukraine, this is the bitter winter marking the entry into the fifth year of the full-scale invasion war launched by Russia. One thousand four hundred and sixty days and nights of gunfire have not only torn apart the borders of a sovereign state but have also left a bleeding wound on the body of modern human civilization that remains open to this day.
Standing at the four-year milestone, we must not only mourn the victims but also launch the severest condemnation against this unjust act of aggression with irrefutable facts and data.
I. Withered Lives: Blood and Tears Behind the Data
The most direct cruelty of war is nothing more than the disregard for life. According to the latest verified data released by the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) as of February 2026, since February 24, 2022, the confirmed civilian death toll in Ukraine has exceeded 15,000, with more than 41,000 others injured. The United Nations simultaneously emphasized that because data from the front lines and Russian-occupied areas (such as Mariupol and other places) is extremely difficult to obtain, the actual casualty figures are likely far higher.
Even more heartbreaking is that, according to the latest UN briefing in February 2026, this war has claimed the lives of at least 766 children. The year 2025 became the deadliest year for civilians since the outbreak of the war, with civilian casualties increasing by 31% compared to 2024. This directly stems from Russia’s systematic long-range strikes on Ukraine’s civilian infrastructure, especially the energy system. On the military level, the cost of this conflict—referred to as the “largest war of attrition since World War II”—is even more staggering. A January 2026 report from the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS) estimates that the total number of soldier casualties on both sides (including killed, wounded, and missing) has approached 1.8 million. Among them, Russia’s losses are particularly severe, with estimated casualties reaching 1.2 million, of which approximately 325,000 are fatalities. This is the highest casualty record sustained by any major power in a single conflict since World War II.
II. Broken Homes: Systematic Destruction of Civilization
This is not merely a war over territory, but a campaign of destruction targeting the very foundations of Ukraine’s survival.
The World Bank disclosed in its fifth “Ukraine Rapid Damage and Needs Assessment” (RDNA5) report, released on February 23, 2026:
• Direct Economic Losses: The direct physical damage suffered by Ukraine has reached $195 billion.
• Reconstruction Costs: The total recovery and reconstruction needs for Ukraine over the next decade are estimated at as high as $588 billion, which is nearly three times Ukraine’s nominal GDP in 2025.
• Housing and Infrastructure: Approximately 14% of housing buildings nationwide have been damaged or destroyed in the fires of war, affecting more than 3 million households.
• More cruel methods are reflected in the “weaponization” of energy facilities. Since the onset of winter in 2025, Russia has intensified attacks on power plants and power grids. UN data shows that in early 2026, approximately 11 million people in Ukraine remained in a state of urgent need for humanitarian assistance, with millions forced to endure power outages and heating cuts in the severe cold of minus 20 degrees Celsius.
III. Displacement: The Vanishing Demographic Dividend
The war triggered the largest refugee crisis in Europe since World War II. According to data from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) in February 2026:
• Currently, approximately 5.9 million Ukrainian refugees are recorded globally.
• Within Ukraine, 3.7 million people remain in a state of internal displacement (IDP).
• Ukraine’s total population has plummeted from 41.13 million before the war to below 36 million by the end of 2025.
• Such drastic changes in demographic structure are not only a present suffering but also foreshadow the severe social and economic blows that future generations of Ukrainians will face.
IV. Conclusion: Justice Should Not Become Numb Due to Habit
Over the past four years, the international community has witnessed the unparalleled courage of the Ukrainian people. As the NATO Secretary-General stated during the fourth anniversary commemoration ceremony in 2026, this is a “prolonged resistance by a heroic nation against dark aggression.”
We condemn Russia, not only because it violated the UN Charter and international law, but also because it attempted to replace the civilization of the rule of law with the logic of force, and to trample on individual dignity with imperial ambition. If this kind of naked aggression can still be tolerated in the 21st century, then the security of any sovereign state in the world will be out of the question.
Supporting Ukraine is supporting our own longing for peace and rules. On the occasion of the fourth anniversary, the world should not become accustomed to the smoke of war, nor should it develop “aesthetic fatigue” toward suffering. Stop the aggression, withdraw the troops, and return the territory—this is the only path toward a just peace. May this time next year, what we write is no longer casualty figures, but chapters about reconstruction, return, and true peace.
The Price of Convenience is Surveillance — Reflections on Reading a Vietnam Travelogue
Author: Lyu Feng Editor: Li Jing Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao Translator: Zhou Min
I happened to come across a blogger describing daily life on the streets of Hanoi: tourists can use Google Maps, WhatsApp, and Facebook; they can hail rides via Uber and pay with Visa or Mastercard. These systems align with global standards, requiring no additional learning of “local rules.” In contrast, foreigners traveling in China cannot access Google or Meta. Many consumption scenarios only support WeChat Pay or Alipay. Registering for these two systems requires binding a Chinese phone number, and all functions necessitate a local bank account. The digital systems of the new era rely entirely on real-name authentication. Why does the so-called “digital convenience” of the Chinese fail when facing overseas tourists?
I believe every Chinese person knows the answer — China’s digital efficiency is built entirely upon high-intensity surveillance of society. Under the rule of the Communist Party of China (CPC), China has constructed an extremely integrated digital system: comprehensive real-name registration, traceable behavioral trajectories, and deep interconnection between major platforms and administrative systems. Finance, communication, and travel data are managed centrally. This structure greatly improves internal efficiency. QR code payments, digital government services, and mobile lifestyles are described by the CPC as symbols of “institutional advantages.” However, efficient services are certainly not free. They rely on continuous data collection, the comprehensive binding of individual identities, and the long-term traceability of behavior. The CPC has deeply tethered convenience to surveillance. When an ordinary person’s daily life is overlaid with data across platforms, it means everyone’s movements are highly visible and highly controllable.
Buying breakfast in the morning, the payment platform records the time and location; communicating with colleagues during the day, the social system leaves a trail of messages; picking up a package at night, the e-commerce platform marks the home address and consumption records. If all this data eventually converges in the hands of power, the individual is like being placed in a glass house, where privacy and boundaries gradually blur. For the system, this is efficient governance; for the individual, this is continuous exposure. Since overseas tourists are not within the local real-name system, have no long-term data accumulation, and are not embedded in the domestic financial system, they cannot be fully integrated into the platform data network. The result is obvious: a system that is efficient internally is full of friction for external individuals. This is not an accidental technical gap but a manifestation of institutional boundaries. The core goal of China’s digital governance is “controllability,” not “global compatibility.” This is precisely the fundamental difference revealed by that Vietnam travelogue.
Vietnam similarly regulates digital information, but it has not established systemic technical blocking. Google, Facebook, and YouTube can be accessed normally; international payment systems are widely used; and various digital platforms are connected to the global system. When digital space forms high walls, the long-term impact will not only be on the tourism experience but also on technical standards, the innovation ecosystem, and the ability to connect and interoperate internationally.
This reminds me of the “Closed Country Policy” (Haijin) during the Ming and Qing dynasties. Domestically, a stable social order seemed to be achieved, but when the world entered the era of industrialization and global trade, China was marginalized. Today, the high degree of isolation in China’s digital space is creating new institutional barriers.
A highly centralized system can mobilize resources in the short term to create myths of efficiency. But when efficiency depends on surveillance, when convenience depends on data centralization, and when stability depends on information censorship, the system falls into a cycle: to maintain order, it needs more control; to maintain efficiency, it needs more integration; to maintain security, it needs higher isolation. History has repeatedly proven that autocratic regimes that forcibly isolate themselves from the outside world to maintain internal stability will eventually exhaust their vitality within a closed loop.
A travelogue about Vietnam may seem ordinary, yet it reveals a clear fact: China’s digital convenience is not a universal convenience, but an internal governance-oriented convenience. The price of convenience is that everyone is monitored. This continuously reinforced digital high wall will inevitably face a day of collapse, just like the seemingly solid Berlin Wall in history.
Chen Xi: A Life Punished, Yet a Faith Unextinguished
Interview: Lin Xiaolong Editor: Zhang Zhijun Responsible Editor: Zhu Yufu Research & Documentation: Lin Xiaolong Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao Translator:Peng Xiaomei
Chen Xi, a Christian and one of the core figures of the democratic and human rights movement in Guizhou, China. Since the 1980s, he has successively participated in organizing the “Salon Fellowship,” the “Patriotic Democratic Union,” the “Guizhou Branch of the China Democracy Party,” and the “International Human Rights Forum for Citizens.” He has published more than 170 political commentaries and authored the 500,000-word Green Culture Reference. Because of his persistent advocacy for democratic ideals, he has been imprisoned three times, serving a total of twenty-three years in prison.
The June Fourth Incident of 1989 became the turning point in his life. Once a member of the Communist Party, a state official, and a university lecturer, he was designated by the authorities as a representative figure in Guizhou during that period. Under the identification of the state apparatus, he transformed from a passive participant into an active bearer of responsibility—binding his personal fate with the democratic progress of the nation. From then on, imprisonment, wounds, and repression became a constant in his life, yet his belief in “being an opposer, being a citizen” has never wavered.
In the previous interview, we reviewed the turning point in his life and the hardships he endured, while also presenting his reflections on China’s political transition: restraining power through institutional constraints rather than creating a new cycle of power. He places hope in the younger generation to continue the tradition of the opposition, to record history, and to promote the growth of freedom, democracy, and civic consciousness.
However, Chen Xi did not gain any real sense of “rebirth” after his release from prison. Like an ordinary retired teacher, he should have returned peacefully to everyday life. Instead, he discovered that his previous professional status and social security rights had been systematically stripped away by the authorities.
Although his family had paid his social security contributions for many years, the local social security bureau bluntly canceled the pension he should have been entitled to, citing the reason that the years he spent in prison could not be counted toward his contribution period. As a result, a citizen who should have been enjoying his later years in peace was pushed into long-term uncertainty and hardship.
Such practices are not isolated cases among China’s dissident community. Numerous individuals who have insisted on their beliefs and pursued freedom find that even after completing their prison sentences, they continue to be deprived of pension rights and basic social security. Their contributions to constitutional democracy and society are openly denied and stripped away.
For Chen Xi, this form of institutional “extended punishment” exposes the cruelty and coldness of Communist Party power. Punishment does not end with the conclusion of a trial. Through administrative, judicial, and social mechanisms, the authoritarian system continually redefines his identity and rights, preventing him from returning to the normal trajectory of a citizen’s life.
Under authoritarian rule, there is no justice and no remedy—only a carefully designed and ceaseless machinery of power operating specifically against those who dare to question and resist.
Each canceled pension payment and each administrative obstruction is not merely punishment against an individual; it is also a blatant trampling of freedom and civil rights across the entire society.
Interview
Lin: After you were released from prison, how did the Communist Party handle your pension?
Chen: After my release, I filed complaints with the Social Security Bureau and the Veterans Affairs Department. My family had paid my social insurance contributions, but the Social Security Bureau said that because I served ten years in prison, those years would be canceled. Such behavior is not merely a breach of contract; it is adding insult to injury. I have already been punished. The Party’s actions contradict the law entirely. They are simply using local administrative regulations to punish me. Previously I was a teacher at Guiyang University in Guizhou Province. I was dismissed by the university in 1989 because of the “June Fourth” incident.
Lin: When the Social Security Department informed you that your pension benefits were canceled, did they provide a written explanation or legal basis?
Chen: There was no legal basis. They explained it using Guizhou provincial administrative regulations. I believe this contradicts the law. It does not reflect the rule of law. Because I went to prison, my preferential treatment as a veteran may be canceled. But after serving my sentence, as an ordinary citizen, my normal rights should not be canceled.
Lin: Did you file for administrative reconsideration or initiate administrative litigation?
Chen: I applied for administrative reconsideration—from the community level to Guanshanhu District and then to the Guiyang municipal government. Their response was: “According to Guizhou provincial regulations, contributions made during imprisonment should not be counted.” But when local regulations conflict with national law, the law should prevail. In my complaint I pointed out that legal punishment has boundaries, but their punishment of me has no boundaries. They may revoke my veteran benefits, but my contributions as a soldier to the country cannot be erased. What they are doing to me now is essentially a “life sentence.”
Lin: If your social security had been calculated normally, what benefits would you be receiving now?
Chen: If calculated based on my normal years of service, I should receive about 5,000 to 6,000 yuan per month. The Social Security Bureau refused to count twenty years of my work history. Including my five years of military service, that would be twenty-five years. My family paid eighteen years of social insurance contributions. Altogether that should be forty-three years.
Lin: Do you believe this situation is simply administrative behavior, or is it a continuation of political punishment?
Chen: It reflects that the country’s policies and regulations have not embraced the concept of rule of law. Instead, it still follows the old logic of class struggle—treating “enemies” with relentless confrontation and no tolerance.
Lin: When you raised your case, did any officials imply that your situation was different from others’?
Chen: No one said it directly. My social insurance was paid by my family, but the documents used to punish me were never shown to me. Unless I accepted their punishment, I would not be allowed to see them. Everything was done in secrecy. This situation exists because the country is still stuck in the era of “Marxism-Leninism,” not a genuine rule-of-law state. Everything is subordinated to ideology—something vague and intangible. This country is a “Party-ruled” state, governed entirely by the Communist Party.
Lin: As far as you know, do other so-called “political prisoners” face the same treatment?
Chen: Yes. It is the same for all of us. We are all victims of “Party rule.”
Lin: Without a pension now, what is your main source of income?
Chen: Mainly my family supports me.
Lin: Are housing and medical expenses a heavy burden for you?
Chen: Of course, the pressure is heavy. The economy is not doing well, and prices are high. At present, more than forty people from the local police and political-legal committee take turns monitoring me. The pandemic ended long ago, but the “red armbands” are still around where I live. They calculated that every year about two million yuan is spent on “stability maintenance” concerning me. The Communist Party’s stability maintenance budget is extremely high—the highest governance cost in the world, as scholars have already pointed out.
When I was released five years ago, a police captain once offered me ten million yuan to “let things go.” But I refused. I told them that my life is not lived for money. They underestimate this spirit. Earlier, two other democracy activists in Guizhou were handled this way—in the early reform era they were each given 500,000 yuan to abandon their activism.
The interview did not take place in the same physical space. The reporter was overseas, while Chen Xi remains in China. Communication could only proceed intermittently through remote channels. Yet it was precisely through this separation—by time, distance, and layers of censorship—that details could be repeatedly confirmed, pieced together, and recorded.
Under the pressure of reality, Chen Xi still maintains clear judgment and articulate expression. Punishment can deprive a person of freedom and cut off income, but it cannot extinguish a person’s commitment to dignity, rule of law, and freedom. This, perhaps, is the real reason why Chen Xi continues to be under strict surveillance even today.
In today’s political reality in China, “release from prison” does not mean the end of punishment. For some people, it merely marks the beginning of another form of long-term punishment. Chen Xi, a democracy activist from Guizhou, is precisely such a person—one who continues to be pursued by the system.
When a system uses boundless power to strip away a person’s rights and dignity, the responsibility of citizens is not only self-preservation but also the defense of universal principles of rule of law and social justice.
Chen Xi’s choice is not merely survival; it is long-term civic practice—recording history, defending freedom, and criticizing power.
He is attempting to leave a possible path for an authoritarian society: before the beast of the system, the rationality and conscience of citizens may become the force capable of taming it.
Abstract:The author recalls her experience of being subjected to a forced abortion in 2012 after becoming pregnant while unmarried. Through this experience, she reflects on the shifting policies from restricting childbirth to encouraging it and raises questions about individual choice and bodily autonomy.
My name is Qian Yulin. I was born in 1991 in Hainan, China. For people of my generation, the education we received from childhood taught us that the family planning policy was a correct and necessary national policy. Our textbooks said it helped the country escape poverty and made society more stable and orderly. At that time, I never questioned the truth of these statements. I naturally believed that the state’s management of childbirth was a reasonable arrangement rather than interference in personal life. It was not until 2012, when I became pregnant for the first time, that I truly understood what this so-called “national policy” meant. That year, a hospital examination confirmed that I was eight weeks pregnant. Because I was unmarried, I was deemed to have violated the family planning policy. Soon afterward, officials from the family planning office came directly into my dormitory and took me to the hospital. Without my clear consent, a forced abortion procedure was carried out. That day, lying on the operating table, the pain in my body was far less intense than the despair in my heart. For the first time, I realized that my body did not fully belong to me. It was something whose fate could be decided by a higher authority. It was not merely a medical procedure. It was a silent but complete denial. It denied not only an unborn life but also my right, as an independent individual, to make my own choices.
For a long time afterward, I tried to persuade myself to accept what had happened. I told myself that it was state policy, that it was the demand of the era, and that individuals must obey the needs of the collective. But years later, when I saw China fully open the two-child and three-child policies and even begin encouraging women to have more children through various measures, a question that had long been buried deep within me resurfaced. The same pregnancy that had been judged wrong in 2012 and forcibly terminated is today praised, encouraged, and even regarded as a contribution to the nation. This enormous contrast made me seriously consider a question for the first time: If childbirth is a responsibility, why was I not allowed to assume that responsibility back then? If childbirth is a right, why was my right taken away at that time? When the same action can be defined as completely wrong in one era and completely right in another, then on what standard are these judgments of right and wrong based?
Gradually I realized that behind these constantly changing policies, the individual has never truly been the central concern. During the era of strict family planning, the state needed to reduce population, and therefore women’s reproduction was tightly restricted—even forcibly terminated. When the population began to decline and the state needed more births, childbirth was suddenly given new meaning, and women were once again assigned new roles and responsibilities. Throughout this entire process, one thing never changed: the decision-making power was never in the hands of the individual. It always belonged to a higher structure of authority. In a certain sense, women’s bodies were treated as instruments that could be adjusted according to the needs of the state rather than as something that truly belonged to the individual.
This realization did not come in a single moment. It accumulated gradually through experience and time. I began to understand that the forced abortion I experienced was not merely a personal tragedy. It was the inevitable outcome of the logic of that era.
Within that logic, an individual’s will be ignored. Personal suffering could be explained as a necessary cost. The individual herself was only a small component within a much larger goal.
When I later saw propaganda encouraging childbirth, I no longer felt only anger. What I felt instead was a deeper clarity. I had come to understand that within such a system, whether one gives birth or not has never been purely a personal matter. It is something that can be defined, redefined, and even forcibly implemented.
From that moment on, I began to seriously think about the meaning of freedom. I gradually realized that freedom is not merely possessing a certain right; it is possessing the possibility of deciding whether to exercise that right. If a person can be forced not to give birth and later encouraged—or pressured—to give birth, then what she truly lacks is not the act of childbirth itself, but the right to choose. When a society can shift within just over a decade from restricting childbirth to encouraging it, yet never truly confront or reflect on the lives and futures that were once forcibly taken away, I realized that what truly needs enlightenment is not only the individual, but society’s understanding of the value of the individual. My experience taught me that a person’s true dignity does not lie in whether she gives birth. It lies in whether she can decide her own destiny—rather than having it decided by the needs of the era.
Abstract:“Political reckoning” does not equal “institutional transition.” Using the examples of Nicolás Maduro, Ali Khamenei, and Xi Jinping, this article argues that the essence of dictatorship lies in the structure of power rather than in individuals. Only through institutional reconstruction can genuine political transformation be achieved.
“Decapitation” has now become a frequently used word in public discussion. Emotion has begun to overwhelm reason. When Nicolás Maduro was captured by the U.S. government and Ali Khamenei was reportedly killed, whether in discussions about Venezuela’s strongman politics or Iran’s theocratic structure, the same question repeatedly surfaced: If a dictator falls, will the country’s reality truly change?
In discussions about the transition of authoritarian regimes, sudden changes among political elites are often given exaggerated historical significance. The “removal of an individual” is merely what political science would call a “sudden event”; it cannot automatically trigger a “structural transformation.” The public often holds an optimistic expectation rooted in a “narrative of political reckoning,” believing that the collapse of strongman politics will inevitably bring systemic change.
One thing must be made clear from the beginning: the downfall of a dictator, morally speaking, is never something that deserves sympathy. Those who maintain power through repression, fear, and control ultimately face the historical consequences of that abuse of power. Strongman rule compresses social space, distorts institutional functioning, and produces systemic fear. Its end, no matter how it occurs, requires no moral defense.
However, acknowledging the fall of a dictator does not mean that moment should be mistaken for the completion of institutional rebirth.
Take Venezuela as an example. During Maduro’s rule, power became highly centralized. The judiciary and military were deeply politicized, and opposition forces were suppressed for years. The international community repeatedly predicted that a “critical moment” was approaching, and temporary confrontations over power even occurred. Yet what truly determines the fate of a nation is not a sudden shock but the alignment of the military, institutional arrangements, economic structures, and the balance of social forces. If those structures are not reorganized, the departure of a strongman does not necessarily bring institutional freedom.
Iran presents a similar case. As Supreme Leader, Ali Khamenei holds both religious legitimacy and authority above the constitution. For years observers have speculated about the direction of power in a “post-Khamenei era.” But Iran’s true core is not a single individual; it is the entire power structure of “Supreme Leader – Revolutionary Guard – Guardian Council.” If that structure remains intact, replacing one person does not mean changing the track on which the system runs.
This is the key point: the essence of dictatorship is not the personality of one person but the arrangement of power structures.
If a system allows one position to simultaneously hold ultimate control of the military, final interpretation of the judiciary, monopoly over media discourse, and dominance over administrative appointments, then regardless of who occupies that position, power will continue to concentrate through institutional inertia. Celebrating the fall of a dictator may mark a historical moment, but it is by no means the end of history.
An Iranian named Iman Jalali once offered a particularly sobering analysis of the terror embedded in such systems: Khamenei’s death may seem like good news, but reality is far more complicated. Iran has prepared the most detailed contingency plans imaginable. Every key position has four levels of succession. Military actions are pre-authorized, and regional commanders can act without orders from Tehran.
By the time such an article is read, a new supreme leader may already have taken office. The government remains intact. The system absorbs the shock—exactly as it was designed to do. All credible intelligence leads to the same conclusion: in the post-Khamenei era, Iran is more likely to become harder rather than more moderate, and the Revolutionary Guard will become even more active and threatening. For the Iranian people, such institutional resilience may bring even greater repression than under Khamenei himself.
Emotion makes people long for a clean ending. After years of repression, people naturally hope to witness a symbolic collapse. But political reality has no full stops—only structures. If the structure is not dismantled, any vacuum will simply be filled by new forces. In highly centralized systems, power vacuums often lead to internal reorganization rather than automatic democratization. History repeatedly shows that in times of chaos, people’s desire for “stability” can become the very justification for renewed concentration of power. This is why imagining politics as a final “reckoning” is dangerous. It leads people to believe the root of the problem lies in one person, while ignoring what truly needs to change:
How power is distributed.
How power is supervised.
How power is limited.
True political maturity does not lie in denying that dictators must exit the stage of history. It lies in understanding that without institutional constraints, new strongmen will always emerge. Democracy is never the natural result of a dictator’s fall. It is the product of institutional design—rules written into law, implemented in practice, and broadly accepted by society. It means that whoever holds power cannot act arbitrarily.Even a majority cannot crush a minority. Even a supreme leader claiming to represent the nation must still be bound by law.
In strongman politics, people grow accustomed to waiting for a “key figure.” In mature systems, people rely on rules. Civic awareness is not an emotional climax but the formation of rule consciousness: understanding that power must be divided, the military must be nationalized, the judiciary must be independent, and the media must be open—and being willing to assume responsibility for these principles. The growth of civil society is more important than any dramatic political moment.
The fall of a dictator is worth affirming; it symbolizes the end of a node of oppression. But what is truly worth celebrating is not the disappearance of a dictator’s name, but the fact that no one will ever again possess such power. If power remains without boundaries, then the next person who sits in that position may simply speak a different language or adopt a different style while continuing the same track.
Emotion can topple a symbol. Only reason can construct an institution. History does not automatically change direction after a single shock. Direction depends on whether structures are reorganized, rules rewritten, and power truly locked within the cage of institutions.
The real victory is not the end of a strongman—it is the end of strongman politics.
The former is an event. The latter is a structure.
Within the Chinese-speaking world, calls to “decapitate Xi Jinping” are a symbolic response to the abuse of personal power. Yet the Chinese Communist Party’s system has long been designed with extraordinary completeness. Power is not concentrated solely in one individual but deeply embedded within the Party, the military, the propaganda apparatus, bureaucratic networks, and local interest groups. Whoever takes office, the state machine will continue to operate.
The CCP does not rely on individuals—it relies on an institutionalized chain of power. The military, police, propaganda organs, administration, and local Party organizations operate both independently and in mutual restraint. Even if Xi Jinping were to fall, succession mechanisms, core leadership groups, and emergency command systems are already in place. A power vacuum will not become a blank space for democracy and freedom. It will be quickly filled by the next designated leader within the institutional framework. Removing a name does not liberate politics. More importantly, after decades of operation, this system has learned how to stabilize itself during shocks. External pressures or internal turbulence will not shake the system for long. The military and security apparatus have clear chains of command; local Party organizations have developed self-protective mechanisms while balancing central and local interests; propaganda and public opinion systems can reconstruct legitimacy almost instantly. Decapitation cuts off a symbol but does not dismantle the framework sustaining power. Some people fantasize that the next leader might be more moderate or open space for reform. This is a typical logical error. History and reality both tell us that power vacuums often strengthen a system rather than loosen it. Successors must preserve Party unity and centralized power; otherwise, the system itself would collapse.
Just like in Iran, the fall of a central figure did not tear apart the system. Instead, the system demonstrated its resilience and capacity for self-continuation. The CCP is no different.
To place hope in “the fall of Xi Jinping” is still to consume the logic of strongman politics—only shifting from worship to hatred. The real key lies not in individuals but in institutions. Without institutional constraints, the judiciary, the military, propaganda, and the bureaucracy can all be endlessly expanded by a new ruler. The fantasy of decapitation distracts from long-term structural problems, while political reality always concerns structure.
So, when people imagine that removing Xi Jinping will bring freedom, they must first understand decapitation is an event; institutions are structures. The former is temporary, the latter enduring. Any genuine change must begin with structural transformation, not with the fall of an idol.
For us, authoritarian regimes will inevitably collapse. But do not celebrate too early. The road ahead is long. Everything is only just beginning.
An Open Letter to Xi Jinping, General Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of China
Author: Liu Bingliang Editor: Feng Reng Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao Translator: Ge Bing
General Secretary Xi Jinping:
Greetings!
I am a Chinese citizen who fled China to seek refuge overseas, and a member of the China Democracy Party. Today, I address you as a citizen concerned about China’s future and deeply invested in the nation’s rise or fall.
In present-day China, local governments dare not speak the truth, experts dare not speak honestly, officials pursue “avoiding trouble” as their highest goal, the people see no hope in their lives, social strata have solidified, upward mobility is blocked, the economy is sluggish, people’s livelihoods are in decline, public discontent is boiling, and various social risks are accumulating.
The long-standing one-child policy has profoundly impacted demographic structure, further complicating economic and social challenges while compounding existing contradictions.
China now stands at a historic watershed: one step forward could mean systemic transformation and social reconciliation; one step back could lead to prolonged stagnation and an explosive outbreak of structural risks. As the current leader wielding absolute power in China, you have become the decisive figure shaping the trajectory of this era.
History repeatedly demonstrates that the more concentrated personal power becomes, the more fragile the system itself grows. Purges and counter-purges, loyalty contests and governance by fear ultimately fail to deliver genuine stability, only perpetually escalating political risks.
You understand better than anyone: under a highly centralized system, there is no such thing as an “absolutely secure ally.” From Stalin in the Soviet Union to Hitler in Nazi Germany, from the Yan’an Rectification Campaign to the Cultural Revolution in the history of the Chinese Communist Party, power purges invariably backfire, leading to distorted information, bureaucratic complacency, and systemic misjudgments. The recent personnel shake-up within the Central Military Commission system once again underscores the structural risks inherent in extreme power concentration. Such risks are not subject to individual will.
Over the past decade, under the banner of anti-corruption, you have purged, centralized, and restructured the Party, government, and military systems, completing the most extensive realignment of power since the reform and opening-up era. Today’s China has entered a political reality defined by “supreme authority”: major policy directions are guided by you, core personnel decisions are made by you, and institutional boundaries are shaped under your leadership. Precisely because of this, history has placed an unprecedented choice in your hands. Moreover, historical reality demonstrates that institutional transformation is most likely to be achieved at minimal cost only during periods of highly concentrated power.
Reform and opening-up were initiated not because the system itself was tolerant, but because Deng Xiaoping wielded overwhelming authority. Taiwan’s democratic transition avoided civil war and reckoning not because the Kuomintang voluntarily relinquished power, but because Chiang Ching-kuo chose to “take a step forward” at the zenith of the authoritarian regime.
Your current position objectively aligns more closely with Chiang Ching-kuo than with Gorbachev.
You have achieved comprehensive control over the Party, military, government, and ideology; no factional strongholds openly challenge you, and no institutionalized power succession mechanism currently exists. Precisely under these circumstances, opting for gradual reforms—including systemic liberalization, reversible power structures, judicial independence, and social autonomy—holds the greatest potential to avert violent upheaval.
The “Chiang Ching-kuo Path” is not betrayal, but historical advancement. Mr. Chiang Ching-kuo neither denied the KMT’s history nor settled accounts with Chiang Kai-shek; he merely acknowledged a reality: the authoritarian system had reached its end, and continued dictatorship would only drag the nation into an abyss. He lifted martial law, lifted the ban on political parties, and permitted the legal existence of opposition forces. He designed the “exit of power” as an institutional process rather than street confrontation. The result: Taiwan achieved a peaceful transition, the ruling party stepped down without being destroyed, and society avoided systemic retaliation.
This path does not require you to reject the Communist Party of China, nor does it demand you engage in “self-criticism.” On the contrary, it signifies:
• Transforming the Party from an “entity with unlimited power” into a “competitor within the system”;
• Transforming leaders from “lifelong incumbents” into “transitional figures in history”;
• Transforming the state from one that “maintains stability through fear” into one governed by “rules.”
This is not failure, but political maturity.
Freedom and democracy are the inevitable trend, unstoppable. Dictatorship has no future! The global community does not oppose China’s development. What truly concerns us is a major power lacking predictability, error-correction mechanisms, and peaceful succession pathways. When power lacks peaceful succession mechanisms, any individual misjudgment can be amplified into a national catastrophe.
At the same time, profound changes are unfolding within Chinese society itself:
• The middle class demands certainty, not slogans;
• The younger generation no longer believes in “sacrificing today for tomorrow”;
• Local fiscal constraints, demographic shifts, and technological blockades are squeezing the old model’s survival space.
Continuing to tighten control will only delay the eruption of contradictions, not eliminate risks.
History’s judgment of strongmen has never depended on the length of their rule, but on whether they chose the most powerful option for their nation and people at critical moments! You have demonstrated your ability to “centralize power.” What history truly cares about now is whether you are willing to establish a system for China that does not depend on “the next enlightened ruler,” whether you are willing, like Mr. Chiang Ching-kuo, to become the true founder of democracy and freedom in China, and whether you are willing to allow 1.4 billion Chinese people to live democratic, prosperous, and dignified lives like those in Taiwan! May the day come when, through your efforts, China achieves political transformation without bloodshed, collapse, or hatred—granting the people genuine electoral power, implementing democratic elections, and enabling peaceful party rotation. Then you shall be remembered as a great benefactor of the Chinese nation, immortalized throughout the ages!
The choice remains yours, but the window of opportunity is narrowing. May you seize this historic opportunity at the zenith of your power, discern the direction of history, align with its tide, and make the right choice—for the Chinese nation, for the world, and for yourself and future generations!
Take one step forward, and your name shall be enshrined in history!
Sincerely,
An ordinary Chinese citizen who hopes for democracy and freedom in China at the earliest opportunity—Liu Bingliang
