——从“小洛熙案”看中国社会底线的破裂与觉醒

作者：李聪玲

编辑：张致君 校对：程筱筱 翻译：戈冰

小洛熙开庭当天，宁波的冬天并不喧闹，却显得异常沉重。法院门前，没有统一组织的横幅，没有正式的动员口号，却聚集了来自各地的普通人：打工者、宝妈、老人、年轻人。他们彼此并不相识，却在同一时间站在同一个地点，只为了一个五个月大的孩子。

这是一个必须被认真对待的事实：小洛熙开庭声援不是谣言，不是“境外势力”，也不是少数激进者的行为，而是一次真实发生的、广泛的、自发的民众集结。在一个长期被塑造成“稳定”“理性”“不关心公共事务”的社会里，这样的场景本身，就已经说明了问题。长期以来，中国社会被灌输一种叙事：普通人只要“好好过日子”，不碰政治、不惹麻烦，就可以换来基本的安全与安宁。公共事务被描述成“与你无关”，不公被解释为“个案”“偶然”，而一切抗争都被贴上“闹事”“不理性”的标签。

但小洛熙案之所以刺破这种叙事，是因为它触碰的不是某个抽象概念，而是最原始、最不可退让的人性底线。一个婴儿。一个无法说话、无法维权、无法自救的生命。一个本应在医学与制度保护下被全力呵护的对象。当这样一个生命在高度专业化、制度化的医疗体系中迅速消失，而家属却被推诿、被冷处理、被质疑动机、被消耗时间时，人们突然意识到：如果连孩子都无法被保护，那么所谓的“安全”，究竟还剩下什么？

声援小洛熙的人，并不一定都懂医学，也未必掌握完整的案件细节。他们来到法院门前，并非因为每一个人都能给出严谨的法律判断，而是因为他们都读懂了一种危险的信号：制度正在用冷漠、程序与权力优势，把个体的生命价值不断压缩。

当家属面对的是一个封闭的系统——医疗机构内部调查、鉴定结论迟迟不出、信息披露高度不对称、维权成本被无限拉长，那么，这已经不仅仅是一场医疗纠纷，而是一场制度与个体之间的力量对比实验。

而人们的到场，恰恰说明了一个变化正在发生：越来越多的中国人开始明白，“事不关己”的安全感是虚假的。当制度习惯性站在强者一边，任何人都可能在下一刻成为“个案”。

在中国，真正罕见的从来不是悲剧，而是被看见的悲剧。多年来，从矿难、疫苗事件、校车事故，到铁链女、唐山事件，人们一次次被迫目睹制度失灵的后果，却又一次次被要求“向前看”“不要情绪化”。久而久之，愤怒被压抑，表达被自我审查，社会逐渐形成了一种危险的状态：悲剧被接受为常态，底线被不断下调。

但小洛熙案的不同之处在于，它发生在一个人们“以为最安全”的领域——医疗。它涉及一个“最不该被牺牲”的群体——婴儿。它发生在一个“无法用道德污名化”的家庭身上。于是，许多曾经选择沉默的人，第一次发现自己无法继续退让。有人说，到场声援的人是在“被情绪裹挟”。但恰恰相反，真正危险的不是情绪，而是长期被压制到麻木的情绪。一个社会如果对儿童的死亡无动于衷，对制度性冷漠习以为常，对家属的绝望视而不见，那才是彻底失去自我修复能力的征兆。

声援者的出现，说明还有人拒绝接受这种麻木。他们或许无法改变判决，但他们至少在表达一个清晰的态度：生命不能被轻易对待，权力不能免于质疑。这不是政治动员，而是道德本能。值得注意的是，这次声援并未出现激进对抗，也没有暴力冲突。人们只是站着、看着、等待着，用身体在公共空间中表达关注。这种克制，本身就说明了中国社会并非“无法理性表达”，而是长期缺乏被允许的表达空间。

当一个社会把所有公共议题都压缩进“内部处理”，把所有质疑都归类为“别有用心”，那么任何一次合法、和平的聚集都会显得“异常”。但异常的不是人们的出现，而是一个需要靠恐惧维持秩序的环境。小洛熙案不会是最后一起这样的案件。真正的问题是：当下一次悲剧发生时，人们是继续选择沉默，还是继续走出来？

觉醒并不意味着立刻改变制度，它首先意味着拒绝谎言，拒绝遗忘，拒绝被迫接受不公为“正常”。觉醒意味着人们开始意识到，权利不是被赐予的，而是通过持续的关注与坚持，被一点点争取的。在法院门前的那些普通人中，没有英雄，也没有领袖。他们只是明白了一件事：如果今天不为一个孩子站出来，明天就可能无人为自己站出来。一个社会的底线，从来不是写在文件里的，而是体现在人们是否还愿意为他人的不公感到不安。小洛熙案让人痛苦，但它也让人看见了一线微弱却真实的光——那是良知尚未熄灭的证明。

当越来越多的人不再把悲剧当作“别人的事”，当越来越多的人开始走到现实中表达关切，中国社会或许仍然艰难，但至少，它还没有完全沉沦。而这，正是觉醒的开始。

When a Child’s Death Brings People to the Courthouse Steps

—The Little Luoxi Case Reveals the Erosion and Awakening of China’s Social Conscience

Abstract: The Little Luoxi case sparked spontaneous public gatherings outside the courthouse, fueled by outrage and unease over the institutional indifference toward an infant’s life. It exposes the relentless decline of societal standards while showcasing ordinary citizens’ refusal to grow numb—a reawakening of conscience and action.

Author: Li Congling

Editor: Zhang Zhijun Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao Translator: Ge Bing

On the day of Little Luoxi’s trial, Ningbo’s winter was not bustling, yet it felt unusually heavy. Before the courthouse, there were no organized banners or formal rallying cries, yet ordinary people from all walks of life gathered: migrant workers, stay-at-home moms, the elderly, and young adults. Though strangers to one another, they stood together at the same place, at the same time, united for a five-month-old child.

This is a fact that must be taken seriously: the courtroom solidarity for Little Luoxi was not a rumor, not the work of “foreign forces,” nor the act of a few radicals. It was a real, widespread, and spontaneous gathering of the people. In a society long portrayed as “stable,” “rational,” and “unconcerned with public affairs,” this scene itself speaks volumes. For years, Chinese society has been fed a narrative: ordinary people need only “live quietly,” avoid politics, and stay out of trouble to secure basic safety and peace. Public affairs are portrayed as “none of your business”, injustices dismissed as “isolated incidents” or “coincidences” , and all forms of resistance labeled as “troublemaking” or “irrational”.

But the Little Luoxi case pierces this narrative precisely because it touches not some abstract concept, but the most primal, non-negotiable baseline of humanity. An infant. A life unable to speak, unable to defend itself, unable to save itself. A being who should have been safeguarded with all possible care under medical and institutional protection. When such a life vanishes rapidly within a highly specialized, institutionalized healthcare system, while the family faces buck-passing, cold treatment, questioning of their motives, and drawn-out delays, people suddenly realize: If even children cannot be protected, what exactly remains of this so-called “safety”?

Those rallying for Little Luoxi may not all understand medicine, nor possess the full details of the case. They gather outside the courthouse not because each can offer rigorous legal analysis, but because they recognize a dangerous signal: the system is using indifference, bureaucracy, and institutional power to steadily diminish the value of an individual life.

When families confront a closed system—where internal medical investigations drag on, expert conclusions remain indefinitely delayed, information disclosure is severely asymmetrical, and the cost of seeking justice is stretched to the limit—this ceases to be merely a medical dispute. It becomes a test of strength between the system and the individual.

The very presence of these people signals a shift underway: an increasing number of Chinese citizens are realizing that the security of “it doesn’t concern me” is illusory. When the system habitually sides with the powerful, anyone could become the next “isolated case” at any moment.

In China, what is truly rare is never tragedy itself, but tragedy that is seen. Over the years, from mining disasters, vaccine scandals, and school bus accidents to the chained woman and the Tangshan incident, people have been forced time and again to witness the consequences of systemic failure, only to be repeatedly told to “look forward” and “avoid emotional reactions.” Over time, anger has been suppressed, expression self-censored, and society has gradually descended into a dangerous state: tragedy is accepted as the norm, and moral boundaries are constantly lowered.

But the Little Luoxi case is different. It occurred in a realm people “believed to be the safest”—healthcare. It involved a group that “should never be sacrificed”—infants. It happened to a family that “cannot be morally stigmatized.” Thus, many who once chose silence found themselves unable to retreat any further. Some claim those who came to show support were “carried away by emotion.” But quite the opposite is true: the real danger lies not in emotion itself, but in emotions suppressed to the point of numbness. A society that remains unmoved by a child’s death, that treats systemic indifference as routine, that turns a blind eye to a family’s despair—that is the sign of a society that has utterly lost its capacity for self-repair.

The emergence of supporters demonstrates that some refuse to accept this numbness. They may not alter the verdict, but they clearly express a stance: life cannot be treated lightly, and power cannot be exempt from scrutiny. This is not political mobilization but moral instinct. Notably, this solidarity remained free of radical confrontation or violent conflict. People simply stood, watched, and waited—using their physical presence in public space to convey concern. This restraint itself demonstrates that Chinese society is not incapable of rational expression, but rather has long lacked permitted spaces for such expression.

When a society compresses all public issues into “internal handling” and labels all questioning as “ulterior motives” , any lawful, peaceful gathering inevitably appears “abnormal.” Yet the abnormality lies not in people’s presence, but in an environment that relies on fear to maintain order. The Little Luoxi case will not be the last of its kind. The real question is: When the next tragedy strikes, will people choose silence again, or will they step forward?

Awakening does not mean immediate systemic change. It first means rejecting lies, refusing to forget, and refusing to accept injustice as “normal.” Awakening means recognizing that rights are not granted—they are won through sustained vigilance and persistence. Among those ordinary people gathered outside the courthouse, there were no heroes, no leaders. They understood only one thing: if we don’t stand up for a child today, tomorrow there may be no one left to stand up for us. A society’s moral baseline is never written in documents; it manifests in whether people still feel uneasy about injustice inflicted upon others. The Little LuoXi case is painful, yet it also reveals a faint yet real glimmer of light—proof that conscience has not yet been extinguished.

When more and more people stop viewing tragedies as “someone else’s problem,” when more and more people begin stepping into reality to voice their concerns, Chinese society may still face hardships, but at least it has not yet sunk completely. And this, precisely, is the beginning of awakening.

——从湖北精神病院骗保案，看一个拒绝透明的治理逻辑

作者：李聪玲

编辑：张致君 校对：程筱筱 翻译：戈冰

近年来，中国社会频繁出现一些令人不安却高度相似的场景：未成年人在校园中“非正常死亡”，调查迅速定性；普通人被送进精神病院，出院却难如登天；家属提出质疑，随即被纳入“维稳”对象；信息被封锁，讨论被压制，结论被提前写好。这些经历并非彼此孤立的“个案”，而是高度集权体制在现实运行中，对普通人进行系统性碾压的结果。

新京报近期披露的湖北多家精神病医院骗保调查，正是这一治理逻辑的一个极端却典型的缩影。据新京报调查报道，湖北襄阳、宜昌多家精神病医院，以“免费住院、医药费和生活费全免”为诱饵，违规收治大量并无明显精神障碍的人员，涉嫌通过虚构诊疗项目、伪造病历，系统性套取医保资金。

2025年12月，记者以护工身份卧底进入襄阳宏安精神病医院、宜昌夷陵康宁精神病医院，发现住院者中不仅包括戒酒者、行动不便的老年人，甚至连护工、保安本人，也被办理成“精神病人”住院手续，只为配合医院完成医保报销流程。医生直言，只要“能走医保”，病历是可以“写”的。在这些医院中，将正常人“写成精神病”并非偶发失误，而是一种高度制度化的操作方式。记者查询收费系统发现，大量账目中反复出现“心理治疗”“行为矫正”等收费项目，但无论是记者本人还是其他病人，均未见相关治疗实际开展。仅这些虚构项目，日均费用约130元。一名护工私下透露：“一个病人一年能套六万，一百个就是六百万。”

为了规避监管，有医院在检查前安排病人“假出院”，检查结束后再重新收治，形成事实上的长期滞留。住院人数越多、住院时间越长，医院获取的医保资金就越多，而病人则被彻底物化为维持医院运转的“指标”。多名病人反映，入院极其容易，出院却几乎不可能。即便病情好转，甚至本就不存在精神疾病，也常被以各种理由强行留院。记者卧底期间，多次目睹医护人员对病人实施暴力：扇耳光、脚踹、用水管抽打，甚至将病人捆绑在床上，最长达三天三夜。有病人形容，“住院就像坐牢”，有人因长期无法出院而陷入绝望，甚至发生自杀行为。

这些医院多位于偏远地区，运营成本低、扩张速度快，通过下乡拉人、介绍提成等方式争抢“病源”。在医保结算机制与监管缺位的双重作用下，一套以剥夺人身自由、践踏人格尊严为代价的牟利模式，得以长期存在。必须指出的是，湖北精神病医院骗保与非法收治现象，并不能被简单归因为“地方乱象”。其真正的危险性，在于它暴露的并非个别道德沦丧，而是一整套制度性激励失衡所催生的必然结果。

在现行医保体系中，精神病院具有特殊优势：诊断标准高度依赖专业判断，外部难以复核；住院周期缺乏明确上限；病人往往被视为“无完全行为能力者”，其拒绝权与申诉权在现实操作中极易被忽视。一旦监管缺位，医疗机构便天然拥有“低风险、高回报”的操作空间。同时，医保支付机制对“住院人数”和“住院时长”形成客观激励。在缺乏独立审计与透明问责的情况下，这种激励并不会自动导向更好的医疗服务，反而容易异化为对“病人数量”的追逐。湖北曝光的“虚构诊疗”“假出院”“长期滞留”，正是这一逻辑的直接产物。更值得警惕的是，被违规收治者往往是最缺乏反抗能力的人群：老年人、残障人士、戒酒者、社会边缘人。一旦被贴上“精神异常”的标签，其个人陈述与社会信用便迅速贬值，侵害人身自由反而披上了“医学”“照护”“稳定”的外衣。

从校园中被迅速定性的未成年人死亡，到精神病院中被随意书写的“精神异常”，这些事件看似不同，实则遵循着同一治理逻辑：当一个人的存在被视为“风险”，而不是权利主体，他就会被制度性地处理掉。在这一逻辑下，死亡不再首先被追问真相，而被纳入舆情管控；诊断不再是医学问题，而成为控制工具；家属的合理质疑被重新定义为“不稳定因素”。当“维稳”凌驾于真相之上，当“效率”高于人的尊严，制度本身便开始系统性地制造受害者。

湖北多家精神病医院骗保事件真正令人不寒而栗的，并不只是暴力与贪婪，而是它揭示了一个现实：在一个缺乏独立监督的体制中，最弱势的人，最容易被合法地伤害。当正常人可以被写成精神病，当孩子的死亡可以不经独立调查便被迅速结案，当公共制度不再服务于人的安全，而是服务于权力的便利，那么任何人，都无法确信自己不会成为下一个“被处理对象”。问题从来不在某一家医院、某一个地方、某一次事件，而在于一个拒绝透明、排斥问责、惩罚追问的治理体系。只要这一结构不被改变，类似的悲剧就不会停止，只会不断更换场景、对象与说辞。

一个正常的社会，不需要靠封锁信息来维持秩序；一个负责任的政府，也不需要通过剥夺人的尊严来证明稳定。真正的安全，来自真相被允许出现，来自权力被置于监督之下，来自每一个生命被当作目的，而不是手段。

People Diagnosed by the System

—The Hubei Psychiatric Hospital Insurance Fraud Case Reveals a Governance Logic That Resists Transparency

Abstract: The Hubei psychiatric hospital insurance fraud case exposes how, under a system lacking transparency and accountability, diagnosis has been distorted into a tool of control. Vulnerable groups face legal deprivation of freedom and dignity, while so-called “stability” comes at the cost of creating victims—reflecting a systemic governance crisis.

Author: Li Congling

Editor: Zhang Zhijun Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao Translator: Ge Bing

In recent years, Chinese society has witnessed a disturbing pattern of strikingly similar scenarios: minors suffering “abnormal deaths” on school campuses, with investigations swiftly concluding their causes; ordinary citizens being committed to psychiatric hospitals, only to face insurmountable hurdles upon discharge; families raising questions immediately becoming targets of “stability maintenance”; Information is blocked, discussions suppressed, and conclusions predetermined. These experiences are not isolated “individual cases,” but rather the result of systematic oppression of ordinary people within the highly centralized system’s practical operations.

The recent investigation by The Beijing News into multiple psychiatric hospitals in Hubei Province defrauding medical insurance funds serves as an extreme yet typical microcosm of this governance logic. According to the newspaper’s investigative report, several psychiatric hospitals in Xiangyang and Yichang, Hubei, used “free hospitalization, medication, and living expenses” as bait to illegally admit large numbers of individuals without obvious mental disorders. They are suspected of systematically siphoning medical insurance funds by fabricating treatment plans and falsifying medical records.

In December 2025, reporters posing as nursing assistants infiltrated Xiangyang Hong’an Psychiatric Hospital and Yichang Yiling Kangning Psychiatric Hospital. They discovered that among the hospitalized patients were not only individuals undergoing alcohol rehabilitation and elderly people with mobility issues, but even nursing assistants and security guards themselves had been registered as “psychiatric patients” solely to facilitate the hospitals’ medical insurance reimbursement processes. Doctors openly admitted that medical records could be “written” as long as they “qualify for insurance coverage.” In these hospitals, classifying healthy individuals as “psychiatric patients” was not an isolated error but a highly institutionalized practice. A review of billing systems revealed repeated charges for “psychological therapy” and “behavioral correction” across numerous accounts. However, neither the reporter nor other patients observed any actual implementation of such treatments. These fabricated charges alone amounted to approximately 130 yuan per day. One caregiver privately disclosed: “One patient can generate 60,000 yuan annually; a hundred patients mean 6 million yuan.”

To evade oversight, some hospitals arrange “fake discharges” before inspections, only to readmit patients afterward, effectively creating prolonged stays. The more patients hospitalized and the longer their stays, the more medical insurance funds the hospital receives—reducing patients to mere “metrics” sustaining hospital operations. Multiple patients reported that admission was extremely easy, while discharge was nearly impossible. Even when their condition improved, or they had no mental illness to begin with, they were often forcibly retained under various pretexts. During the undercover investigation, the reporter repeatedly witnessed medical staff using violence against patients: slapping, kicking, beating with water hoses, and even restraining patients to beds for up to three days and nights. One patient described hospitalization as “like being in prison.” Some, trapped indefinitely, succumbed to despair and even attempted suicide.

These hospitals, predominantly located in remote areas, operate with low costs and rapid expansion. They aggressively recruit patients through rural outreach and referral commissions. Amidst gaps in medical insurance settlement mechanisms and oversight, a profit model built on depriving individuals of their freedom and trampling on their dignity has persisted. It must be emphasized that the insurance fraud and illegal admissions at Hubei psychiatric hospitals cannot be simplistically dismissed as “local chaos.” Their true danger lies not in isolated moral failures, but in exposing the inevitable outcome of systemic incentive imbalances.

Within the current medical insurance system, psychiatric hospitals hold unique advantages: diagnostic criteria heavily rely on professional judgment, making external verification difficult; inpatient stays lack clear upper limits; and patients are often deemed “legally incompetent,” with their rights to refuse treatment and file complaints frequently overlooked in practice. When oversight is absent, medical institutions inherently gain “low-risk, high-return” operational leeway. Simultaneously, the medical insurance payment mechanism creates objective incentives for “hospitalization numbers” and “length of stay.” Without independent audits and transparent accountability, these incentives do not automatically lead to better medical services but instead easily degenerate into a pursuit of “patient volume.” The exposed practices in Hubei—fictitious diagnoses, fake discharges, and prolonged detentions—are direct products of this logic. More alarmingly, those admitted under irregularities are often the most vulnerable: the elderly, disabled individuals, alcoholics in recovery, and marginalized members of society. Once labeled as “mentally abnormal,” their personal accounts and social credibility rapidly devalue, while infringements on personal liberty are cloaked in the guise of “medical care,” “support,” and “stability.”

From minors swiftly categorized in schools to arbitrary “mental abnormality” diagnoses in psychiatric hospitals, these seemingly disparate incidents follow the same governance logic: when an individual’s existence is viewed as a “risk” rather than a rights-bearing subject, they become subject to systemic disposal. Under this logic, death is no longer primarily investigated for truth but incorporated into public opinion control; diagnosis ceases to be a medical issue and becomes a tool of control; and families’ legitimate doubts are redefined as “unstable factors.” When “maintaining stability” overrides truth-seeking, and “efficiency” trumps human dignity, the system itself begins to systematically create victims.

What is truly chilling about the insurance fraud incidents at multiple psychiatric hospitals in Hubei is not merely the violence and greed, but the reality they expose: within a system lacking independent oversight, the most vulnerable are most easily harmed with impunity. When sane individuals can be labeled mentally ill, when a child’s death is swiftly dismissed without independent investigation, when public systems serve not human safety but the convenience of power—no one can be certain they won’t become the next “target for disposal.” The problem never lies in a single hospital, location, or incident, but in a governance system that rejects transparency, shuns accountability, and punishes inquiry. As long as this structure remains unchanged, similar tragedies will not cease. They will only change their settings, subjects, and justifications.

A normal society does not need to maintain order by blocking information; a responsible government does not need to prove stability by stripping people of their dignity. True security comes from allowing truth to emerge, from placing power under oversight, and from treating every life as an end in itself, not a means to an end.

——中共非法人体器官移植的滔天罪行

作者：李聪玲 编辑：张致君 校对：程筱筱 翻译：周敏

        在一个正常社会，婴儿死于手术台、学生死于校园，都会引发彻底、独立且透明的调查；死亡本身虽不可逆，但至少真相能够被还原，责任能够被追究，制度能够被反思。然而在当下的中国，这样的期待几乎注定落空。取而代之的，往往是统一口径的官方通报、迅速消失的网络讨论，以及以“维稳”为核心目标的强力压制。死亡并未带来真相，只带来了更深的沉默。

        2025年底发生的“宁波小洛熙”事件，与2026年初河南新蔡中学生在校突然死亡事件，表面看似两起彼此无关的“个案悲剧”，却在处理方式、舆论控制和权力反应上呈现出高度一致的模式。当这两起事件被放入一个更宏大的现实背景中加以审视，即中共政权长期被国际社会指控、却始终拒绝接受独立调查的非法人体器官移植体系，所谓的“偶发”“巧合”便显得愈发站不住脚。这并非阴谋论，而是一个由权力垄断、信息封锁与生命物化所构成的制度性结构。

        小洛熙是一名年仅五个月大的女婴。根据医院方面的说法，她所接受的是一项“技术成熟、风险可控、成功率较高”的心脏手术。然而，手术结束后不久，这个尚未开始理解世界的生命便永远停止了呼吸。真正引发社会震动的，并不仅是婴儿的死亡本身，而是医院及相关主管部门在事后表现出的高度防御姿态：关键医疗信息披露前后矛盾，家属获取完整病历和影像资料困难重重，官方通报反复修改乃至下架，网络舆论迅速被引导至“理性看待”“避免网暴医生”等方向。

        在一个真正以生命为核心价值的医疗体系中，婴儿术后死亡理应自动触发最高等级的独立调查机制，调查过程应当对家属与社会保持透明。然而在中国，调查由谁主导、专家由谁遴选、结论由谁发布，始终指向同一个权力中心。当权力既是裁判者，又是潜在责任方的保护者，所谓“专业结论”便难以获得基本的公信力。

        几乎与此同时，河南新蔡发生了一起同样令人不安的事件。一名十三岁的中学生被发现死于校园之内。官方很快给出了高度标准化的通报：排除刑事案件，排除中毒，排除外力伤害，最终结论为“心源性猝死”。这种表述在近年来的类似事件中反复出现，几乎已形成固定模板。然而，与官方叙述并行流传的，是大量来自现场目击者和家属的疑问：遗体处置是否过于仓促？家属是否在第一时间被完整告知情况？为何现场警力高度戒备？为何网络讨论迅速被清理？这些问题并未得到令人信服的公开回应。

        在当下中国的政治语境中，“心源性猝死”早已不只是一个医学术语，而更像是一种政治语言。它所传递的信息并非解释死亡原因，而是划定讨论边界：不许追问，不许怀疑，不许扩散。问题并不在于青少年是否存在医学上猝死的可能性，而在于为什么每当死亡涉及未成年人、涉及身体异常、涉及潜在责任争议时，最终都必然落入这一“万能结论”。当解释本身被制度化地用于终止追问，它便失去了科学应有的意义。

        如果将这些事件仅仅视为零星事故，或许仍有人愿意诉诸概率与偶然性进行辩解。但当我们把视角进一步拉远，一个无法回避的现实浮现出来：中国是当今世界上器官移植数量长期居高不下的国家之一，却始终无法建立一个透明、可核查、符合医学伦理的自愿捐献体系。其器官移植等待时间之短，公然违背国际医学常识；其官方数据在不同年份、不同场合反复自相矛盾；其制度设计拒绝任何真正独立的国际核查。

        这一问题并非来自“敌对势力”的政治攻击，而是源自国际医学界、人权组织以及独立法律机构多年来持续、系统的质疑。2019年，位于伦敦的“独立人民法庭”（China Tribunal）在长时间听证后作出裁定：在中国，强摘器官行为已经发生，并且在相当程度上仍在持续。该裁定所指向的受害者群体，主要包括良心犯、政治犯以及被系统性剥夺权利、无法有效发声的人群。正是在这一背景下，婴儿、未成年人以及社会最弱势者所处的位置显得格外危险。他们无法拒绝、无法抗辩、无法动员公共资源为自己争取权利。当权力系统对生命缺乏根本敬畏，而社会监督又被全面压制时，身体便可能被还原为“资源”，器官则成为可被调配的“物件”。

        非法器官移植并非个别医生的道德失范，而是一项高度依赖制度配合的国家级犯罪工程。它至少需要三个前提条件：其一，对生命的彻底物化。在极权体制下，个人不是权利主体，而是被管理、被计算、被牺牲的对象；其二，全流程的信息封闭。从医院到公安，从司法到媒体，形成一条不允许外部监督的链条，真相不是被驳倒，而是被删除；其三，对家属与公众的系统性恐吓。维权被定性为“闹事”，追问被指控为“造谣”，沉默因此成为许多人的生存策略。

        有人或许会反驳说，无法直接证明小洛熙或新蔡中学生之死与器官移植存在关联。然而，这恰恰暴露了问题的核心：在一个自称“法治国家”的社会里，为什么公民必须先证明自己没有遭受犯罪，才有资格要求调查？在真正的法治体系中，疑点本身就足以启动独立审查；而在中国，疑点却被视为对政权权威的挑战。当一个政权拒绝公开完整数据、拒绝国际医学核查、拒绝独立尸检、拒绝媒体监督时，它实际上已经放弃了自证清白的资格。非法人体器官移植的本质，并非技术问题，而是对“人”这一概念的否定。它意味着国家可以决定谁的生命具有价值，谁可以被牺牲；意味着身体可以被拆解、分配乃至交易；意味着法律不再是保护生命的屏障，而成为权力运作的工具。这正是国际法所界定的反人类罪的核心特征。

        当一个政权可以在手术台上让婴儿无声死去，可以在校园里制造无法追问的死亡，它所犯下的，早已不是“管理失误”，而是系统性的道德崩塌。小洛熙没有机会长大，新蔡的孩子没有机会为自己辩护。他们的名字，正在被算法淹没，被通报覆盖，被时间抹去。

        但记住他们，并不是为了沉溺于悲伤，而是为了拒绝成为下一个被轻易解释、被迅速遗忘的数字。因为历史一再证明：当一个政权可以随意解释死亡，它也就随时可以制造死亡。对中共非法人体器官移植体系的谴责，不是政治立场之争，而是人类文明的底线问题。追问这些孩子的死亡，不是煽动情绪，而是对未来最基本的守护。

Scalpels and the Silent Campus

— The Monstrous Crimes of the CCP’s Illegal Human Organ Transplanting

Abstract: The deaths of Little Luoxi and the student in Xincai reveal that under information blockades and the monopoly of power, deaths are swiftly characterized and inquiries are suppressed. Combined with long-standing questions regarding illegal organ transplantation, this reflects a systemic institutional crime of the objectification of life.

Author: Li Congling Editor: Zhang Zhijun Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao Translator: Zhou Min

In a normal society, the death of an infant on an operating table or a student on campus would trigger a thorough, independent, and transparent investigation. Although death itself is irreversible, at the very least, the truth could be restored, responsibility could be pursued, and the system could be reflected upon. However, in present-day China, such expectations are almost certainly bound to fail. Replacing them are usually official bulletins with a unified narrative, internet discussions that disappear rapidly, and powerful suppression with “maintaining stability” as the core goal. Death has not brought truth; it has only brought deeper silence.

The “Ningbo Little Luoxi” incident that occurred at the end of 2025 and the sudden death of a middle school student at a school in Xincai, Henan at the beginning of 2026 appear on the surface to be two unrelated “individual tragedies.” Yet, they present a highly consistent pattern in their handling methods, public opinion control, and power reactions. When these two incidents are placed within a grander realistic context for scrutiny—namely, the illegal human organ transplant system for which the CCP regime has long been accused by the international community but has consistently refused to accept independent investigations—the so-called “accidents” and “coincidences” appear increasingly untenable. This is not a conspiracy theory, but an institutional structure composed of a monopoly of power, information blockades, and the objectification of life.

Little Luoxi was an infant only five months old. According to the hospital’s statement, she underwent a cardiac surgery described as “mature in technology, controllable in risk, and high in success rate.” However, shortly after the surgery ended, this life, which had not yet begun to understand the world, stopped breathing forever. What truly triggered social shock was not just the infant’s death itself, but the highly defensive posture displayed by the hospital and relevant departments afterward: the disclosure of key medical information was contradictory; the family faced numerous difficulties in obtaining complete medical records and imaging data; official bulletins were repeatedly revised or even taken down; and online public opinion was swiftly guided toward directions such as “viewing it rationally” and “avoiding cyberbullying against doctors.”

In a medical system that truly holds life as its core value, the death of an infant after surgery should automatically trigger the highest level of independent investigation mechanism, and the investigation process should remain transparent to the family and society. However, in China, who leads the investigation, who selects the experts, and who releases the conclusions always point to the same center of power. When power is both the referee and the protector of the potential liable party, so-called “professional conclusions” find it difficult to obtain basic public credibility.

Almost simultaneously, a similarly disturbing incident occurred in Xincai, Henan. A thirteen-year-old middle school student was found dead inside the school campus. The authorities quickly gave a highly standardized bulletin: excluding criminal cases, excluding poisoning, excluding external injury, and the final conclusion was “sudden cardiac death.” This phrasing has repeatedly appeared in similar incidents in recent years, almost forming a fixed template. However, circulating alongside the official narrative are a large number of questions from witnesses at the scene and family members: was the disposal of the remains too hasty? Was the family fully informed of the situation at the first opportunity? Why was there high police alertness at the scene? Why were online discussions quickly purged? These questions have not received convincing public responses.

In the current political context of China, “sudden cardiac death” has long been more than just a medical term; it is more like a political language. The information it conveys is not an explanation of the cause of death, but the drawing of a boundary for discussion: no questioning allowed, no doubting allowed, no spreading allowed. The issue does not lie in whether there is a medical possibility of sudden death in adolescents, but in why, whenever a death involves minors, bodily abnormalities, or potential liability disputes, it inevitably falls into this “universal conclusion.” When explanation itself is used institutionally to terminate inquiry, it loses the meaning that science ought to have.

If these incidents are viewed merely as scattered accidents, perhaps some would still be willing to resort to probability and randomness for defense. But when we pull the perspective further back, an unavoidable reality emerges: China is one of the countries in the world where the number of organ transplants has long remained high, yet it has consistently failed to establish a transparent, verifiable voluntary donation system that complies with medical ethics. The shortness of its organ transplant waiting times openly violates international medical common sense; its official data repeatedly contradict themselves across different years and occasions; its institutional design refuses any truly independent international audit.

This issue does not come from political attacks by “hostile forces,” but originates from years of continuous and systematic questioning by the international medical community, human rights organizations, and independent legal institutions. In 2019, the London-based “China Tribunal,” after long-term hearings, issued a judgment: in China, the practice of forced organ harvesting has occurred and continues to a substantial extent. The victim groups pointed to by the judgment mainly include prisoners of conscience, political prisoners, and populations who are systematically deprived of their rights and unable to speak out effectively. It is within this context that the positions of infants, minors, and the most vulnerable in society appear exceptionally dangerous. They cannot refuse, cannot plead, and cannot mobilize public resources to fight for their rights. When the power system lacks fundamental reverence for life and social supervision is comprehensively suppressed, the body can be reduced to a “resource,” and organs become “objects” that can be allocated.

Illegal organ transplantation is not a moral lapse of individual doctors, but a national-level criminal project that highly depends on institutional cooperation. It requires at least three prerequisites: first, the total objectification of life. Under a totalitarian system, the individual is not a subject of rights, but an object to be managed, calculated, and sacrificed; second, an all-process information closure. From hospitals to public security, from the judiciary to the media, a chain is formed that allows no external supervision—truth is not refuted, it is deleted; third, systematic intimidation of families and the public. Rights protection is characterized as “making trouble,” and questioning is accused of “spreading rumors”; thus, silence becomes a survival strategy for many.

Some might argue that it is impossible to directly prove a link between the deaths of Little Luoxi or the Xincai student and organ transplantation. However, this is precisely what exposes the core of the problem: in a society that calls itself a “country under the rule of law,” why must citizens first prove they have not suffered a crime before being qualified to demand an investigation? In a true system of the rule of law, suspicion itself is sufficient to initiate an independent review; but in China, suspicion is regarded as a challenge to the regime’s authority. When a regime refuses to disclose complete data, refuses international medical audits, refuses independent autopsies, and refuses media supervision, it has in fact forfeited its qualification to prove its own innocence. The essence of illegal human organ transplantation is not a technical issue, but a denial of the concept of “man.” It means the state can decide whose life has value and who can be sacrificed; it means the body can be dismantled, allocated, and even traded; it means the law is no longer a barrier protecting life, but becomes a tool for the operation of power. This is exactly the core feature of crimes against humanity as defined by international law.

When a regime can let an infant die silently on an operating table and can manufacture deaths on campus that cannot be questioned, what it has committed is no longer a “management error,” but a systemic moral collapse. Little Luoxi did not have the chance to grow up; the child in Xincai did not have the chance to defend themselves. Their names are being submerged by algorithms, covered by bulletins, and erased by time.

But remembering them is not for the sake of wallowing in sadness, but for refusing to become the next digit that is easily explained away and quickly forgotten. Because history has proven time and again: when a regime can arbitrarily explain death, it can manufacture death at any time. The condemnation of the CCP’s illegal human organ transplantation system is not a dispute over political positions, but a question of the bottom line of human civilization. Questioning the deaths of these children is not inciting emotion, but the most basic safeguard for the future.

作者：李聪玲 编辑：张致君  校对：程筱筱 翻译：周敏

        新冠疫情在中国爆发至今已数年，但那段时间所发生的一切，并未随着封控解除而真正过去。相反，它像一道尚未愈合的社会创伤，潜伏在无数家庭的记忆之中，也刻在这个民族的历史深处。对这场灾难的回顾，不应止于“疫情防控”的技术讨论，更无法简单归结为“不可抗力”。因为在这场瘟疫之中，造成大规模死亡、社会撕裂与长期心理创伤的，并不仅是病毒本身，而是一个长期依赖信息控制、行政强制与政治优先逻辑运转的统治体制。

        2020年初，在疫情尚未全面爆发之前，风险信号事实上已经出现。武汉多名一线医生在临床中发现异常病例，并尝试以专业判断向同行示警。然而，这些出于职业责任的提醒，并未被视为公共卫生预警，而是迅速被定性为“扰乱秩序”。多名医生遭到约谈和训诫，其中最为人所知的，便是李文亮医生。李文亮并非政治异议人士，也未试图挑战权威。他只是履行了医生在正常社会中最基本的义务——基于事实提醒风险。然而，在高度集权的政治环境中，真相本身往往被视为不稳定因素。2020年2月7日，李文亮因感染新冠病毒去世。他的死亡，使这场疫情首次以一个具体而清晰的个人悲剧，呈现在公众面前。

        疫情早期的信息延误与压制，后来被证明对防控窗口期造成了严重影响。多项研究与回顾性分析指出，如果在早期阶段采取更透明的信息披露与公共卫生应对措施，疫情的扩散规模与社会代价本可以显著降低。然而，在现实中，地方政府的首要反应并非风险沟通，而是舆情管控；并非医疗准备，而是维稳优先。这种反应模式，并非偶然失误，而是长期政治激励结构下的必然选择。

        2020年1月23日，武汉宣布“封城”。这是一项在全球范围内都极为罕见的极端行政措施。封城本身是否具有公共卫生合理性，学界至今仍存在讨论，但可以确认的是，在实施过程中，相关配套准备严重不足。交通骤停、医疗资源调配失序、普通病患就医受阻，导致大量非新冠患者在封控期间陷入无医可治的境地。在官方统计中，这部分“次生死亡”长期缺乏系统呈现。与此同时，殡仪系统超负荷运转、骨灰集中发放等情况，被大量市民以影像与文字记录下来。多种迹象显示，官方公布的数据难以全面反映疫情对社会造成的真实生命损失。然而，这些问题并未得到公开、独立的调查，相关讨论也很快被纳入严格的信息管控之中。

        疫情在武汉的失控并未促成制度反思，反而推动了一套更具政治化特征的防疫模式在全国铺开。“动态清零”最初被描述为临时应对策略，但在实践中逐渐演变为一条不可质疑的政治路线。病例数字、封控力度与官员问责机制直接挂钩，使公共卫生决策日益脱离专业判断，而更多服务于政治安全逻辑。在这一背景下，各地封控措施不断加码。一些社区被长期封闭，居民行动自由受到严格限制；核酸检测从风险筛查演变为日常行政要求；健康码成为影响出行、就医与基本生活的关键工具。多起经由媒体与民间记录披露的事件显示，孕产妇、老人及重症患者在封控环境中因就医受阻而遭遇严重后果，甚至失去生命。

        这些悲剧往往被解释为“执行偏差”或“个别问题”，但从制度角度看，它们并非偶发。缺乏问责机制的权力结构，使得基层在压力传导下倾向于采取最严厉、最保守的手段，以规避政治风险。在这种逻辑中，个体生命的价值被不断边缘化，服从成为生存前提。

        2022年11月，乌鲁木齐发生的一场居民楼火灾，使长期积累的不满与疑问集中爆发。火灾发生时，该小区处于持续封控状态。事后流出的现场影像与多方证词显示，逃生受阻、通道受限等因素，对人员伤亡产生了重要影响。尽管官方最初试图将事件与防疫政策切割，但随后相关部门也承认管理和应急处置存在严重问题。这场火灾之所以引发全国范围的情绪震荡，并不仅因为伤亡本身，而在于它以极其直观的方式揭示了封控政策可能带来的极端后果。当行政秩序被置于生命之上，当“按规定办事”压倒基本人道原则，防疫便不再是保护，而可能转化为风险本身。

        随后在多地出现的白纸抗议，正是这种社会心理变化的集中体现。参与者并未提出复杂诉求，只是以最简单的方式表达对长期封控、信息不透明以及权力失责的不满。这一现象本身，已说明恐惧并非牢不可破，沉默也并非永久。然而，政策转向同样缺乏审慎准备。在2022年底，防疫措施迅速全面放开，但并未同步建立分级医疗、药物储备与重点人群保护机制。长期封控已削弱基层医疗承受能力，而突然放开则使医疗系统在短时间内承受巨大冲击。多地医院出现挤兑现象，药品供应紧张，殡葬系统承压。由于统计与信息发布的不透明，社会至今仍难以了解这一阶段的真实伤亡情况。

        从极端封控到无序放开，这种政策急转弯并非科学调整的结果，而更像是在政治路线难以为继后的被动收场。在整个过程中，公众始终缺乏参与权与知情权，也缺乏对决策者进行问责的制度渠道。正是在这样的背景下，李文亮医生的象征意义愈发凸显。他并未制造危机，而是试图阻止危机；他并未挑战秩序，而是尊重事实。他的遭遇表明，在一个不允许说真话的体制中，专业良知本身就可能成为被打压的对象。

        纪念李文亮，并不只是对个人命运的哀悼，更是对制度性失责的追问。如果没有新闻自由、司法独立与权力制衡，类似的灾难就无法被真正总结，只会以不同形式反复出现。疫情终将过去，但它所暴露的问题不会自动消失。一个将稳定置于生命之上的统治逻辑，一个将忠诚凌驾于专业之上的治理体系，本身就是对公共安全的持续威胁。记住李文亮，记住武汉，记住乌鲁木齐，不是为了延续仇恨，而是为了拒绝遗忘；不是为了情绪宣泄，而是为了防止历史重演。

Disaster Caused by Human Factors in the COVID-19 Pandemic and the Liquidation of Xi Jinping’s Autocratic Rule

Abstract: The enormous damage caused by the COVID-19 pandemic in China originated from information suppression and autocratic governance that prioritized politics. The death of Li Wenliang, extreme lockdowns, and the hasty reopening reveal a systemic failure of responsibility that urgently needs to be questioned and liquidated.

Author: Li Congling Editor: Zhang Zhijun Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao Translator: Zhou Min

The COVID-19 pandemic has broken out in China for several years now, but what happened during that time has not truly passed with the lifting of lockdowns. On the contrary, it is like an unhealed social wound, lurking deep within the memories of countless families and etched into the history of this nation. A review of this disaster should not stop at technical discussions of “epidemic prevention and control,” nor can it be simply attributed to “force majeure.” Because in this plague, what caused mass deaths, social tearing, and long-term psychological trauma was not just the virus itself, but a ruling system that has long relied on information control, administrative coercion, and the logic of political priority.

At the beginning of 2020, before the pandemic had fully erupted, warning signals of risk had in fact already appeared. Many doctors in Wuhan discovered abnormal cases in clinical practice and attempted to warn their colleagues based on professional judgment. However, these reminders, issued out of professional responsibility, were not regarded as public health warnings but were quickly characterized as “disturbing the order.” Several doctors were summoned for talks and reprimanded; the most well-known among them was Dr. Li Wenliang. Li Wenliang was not a political dissident, nor did he attempt to challenge authority. He merely fulfilled the most basic obligation of a doctor in a normal society—warning of risks based on facts. However, in a highly centralized political environment, the truth itself is often regarded as an unstable factor. On February 7, 2020, Li Wenliang died of a COVID-19 infection. His death caused this pandemic to be presented before the public for the first time as a specific and clear personal tragedy.

The delay and suppression of information in the early stages of the pandemic were later proven to have had a severe impact on the window of opportunity for prevention and control. Multiple studies and retrospective analyses have pointed out that if transparent information disclosure and public health response measures had been taken in the early stages, the scale of the pandemic’s spread and the social cost could have been significantly reduced. However, in reality, the primary response of local governments was not risk communication, but public opinion management; not medical preparation, but maintaining stability as the priority. This response pattern was not an accidental mistake, but an inevitable choice under a long-term political incentive structure.

On January 23, 2020, Wuhan announced a “city lockdown.” This was an extreme administrative measure extremely rare even on a global scale. Whether the lockdown itself possessed public health rationality is still being discussed in academia, but what can be confirmed is that during the implementation process, relevant supporting preparations were seriously insufficient. The sudden halt of transportation, the disorder in medical resource allocation, and the obstruction of medical treatment for ordinary patients caused a large number of non-COVID patients to fall into a state of having no medical care during the lockdown. In official statistics, this part of “secondary deaths” has long lacked a systematic presentation. Meanwhile, the funeral system operating beyond capacity and the centralized distribution of ashes were recorded by a large number of citizens through images and text. Various signs indicate that the data released by the authorities find it difficult to fully reflect the true loss of life caused by the pandemic to society. However, these issues have not been subjected to open and independent investigation, and related discussions were quickly incorporated into strict information control.

The loss of control over the pandemic in Wuhan did not lead to institutional reflection, but instead promoted a set of epidemic prevention models with more political characteristics to spread across the country. “Dynamic Zero-COVID” was initially described as a temporary response strategy, but in practice, it gradually evolved into an unquestionable political line. Case numbers, lockdown intensity, and official accountability mechanisms were directly linked, causing public health decision-making to increasingly deviate from professional judgment and serve more the logic of political security. In this context, lockdown measures in various places were continuously escalated. Some communities were closed for long periods, and the freedom of movement for residents was strictly restricted; PCR testing evolved from risk screening into a daily administrative requirement; the Health Code became a key tool affecting travel, medical treatment, and basic life. Multiple incidents disclosed through media and folk records showed that pregnant women, the elderly, and critically ill patients encountered severe consequences—even losing their lives—due to the obstruction of medical treatment in the lockdown environment.

These tragedies are often explained as “execution deviations” or “individual problems,” but from an institutional perspective, they are not accidental. A power structure lacking an accountability mechanism makes the grassroots, under the transmission of pressure, inclined to adopt the most severe and conservative means to evade political risks. In this logic, the value of individual lives is continuously marginalized, and obedience becomes the prerequisite for survival.

In November 2022, a fire in a residential building in Urumqi caused long-accumulated dissatisfaction and questions to erupt collectively. When the fire occurred, the compound was under continuous lockdown. Field images and testimonies from multiple parties that leaked afterward showed that factors such as blocked escape routes and restricted passages had a major impact on the casualties. Although the authorities initially tried to decouple the incident from epidemic prevention policies, relevant departments subsequently admitted that there were serious problems in management and emergency handling. The reason this fire triggered a nationwide emotional shock was not just because of the casualties themselves, but because it revealed in an extremely direct way the extreme consequences that lockdown policies could bring. When administrative order is placed above life, and when “acting according to regulations” overrides basic humanitarian principles, epidemic prevention is no longer protection but may transform into risk itself.

The “White Paper Protests” that subsequently appeared in many places were a concentrated manifestation of this change in social psychology. The participants did not put forward complex demands but merely expressed dissatisfaction with the long-term lockdowns, lack of information transparency, and failure of power in the simplest way. This phenomenon itself has already shown that fear is not unbreakable, and silence is not permanent. However, the policy turn similarly lacked prudent preparation. At the end of 2022, epidemic prevention measures were quickly and fully lifted, but a tiered medical system, drug reserves, and protection mechanisms for key populations were not established simultaneously. Long-term lockdowns had already weakened the capacity of grassroots medical care, while the sudden reopening caused the medical system to endure a huge shock in a short period. Medical runs occurred in many hospitals, drug supplies were tight, and the funeral system was under pressure. Due to the opacity of statistics and information release, society still finds it difficult to understand the true casualty situation of this stage.

From extreme lockdown to disorderly reopening, this policy U-turn was not the result of scientific adjustment, but more like a passive withdrawal after the political line became unsustainable. Throughout the process, the public consistently lacked the right to participate and the right to know, and also lacked institutional channels to hold decision-makers accountable. It is in this context that the symbolic significance of Dr. Li Wenliang has become increasingly prominent. He did not create a crisis but tried to prevent one; he did not challenge order but respected the facts. His encounter showed that in a system where telling the truth is not allowed, professional conscience itself may become an object of suppression.

Commemorating Li Wenliang is not just mourning a personal fate, but questioning systemic failure of responsibility. Without freedom of the press, judicial independence, and checks and balances of power, similar disasters cannot be truly summarized and will only reappear repeatedly in different forms. The pandemic will eventually pass, but the problems it exposed will not disappear automatically. A ruling logic that places stability above life, and a governance system that elevates loyalty above professionalism, is in itself a continuous threat to public safety. Remembering Li Wenliang, remembering Wuhan, and remembering Urumqi is not for the sake of continuing hatred, but for refusing to forget; it is not for emotional venting, but for preventing history from repeating itself.

编辑：冯仍 校对：王滨 翻译：吕峰

浙江的响雷，山东的曙光，使国内公开层面的民运活动提升到一个新的高度，即筹组公开反对党的高度。一个公开的反对党，正在孕育之中。

在专制制度下，催生一个公开的反对党（注意：不是秘密层面的反对党，此问题以后讨论），需要客观和主观的很多条件。这里，我只想谈谈主观因素，即我们民运自身可以掌控的因素。主观因素，包括勇气和策略等。

上一篇文章中，我主要谈的是勇气。我始终坚持，勇气为第一要素，勇气为开路先锋。在当前，勇敢是最大的道德体现。试想，当人们通通勇敢地走向牢房的时候，再专制的牢房都会被踏平，牢房的存在就失去了意义。问题是，有勇气的人，并不是很多。这就涉及到避免或减少镇压损失、让胆量不是那么大的人士也能参与，争取中间人士的同情、争取舆论的支持等一系列的问题，也就是策略问题。

只有勇，没用谋，是政治上的冒险主义；只会谋，缺少勇，是政治上的保守主义。两种倾向都要避免。

策略是桥和船，是抵达彼岸不可或缺的工具。毛泽东讲过：“政策和策略是党的生命” 。这句话有道理，不可因人废言。讲起毛，可能大家还记得四六年的重庆谈判。毛到了重庆，高呼蒋委员长万岁，三民主义万岁，俯首称臣，做了一场漂亮的 “政治秀” 。这是什么？这是策略。毛泽东打江山的一些策略，是成功的。舍之，到不了彼岸，达不成政治目标。

策略之所以运用，乃为绕过礁石，达到彼岸；策略的原则，是削弱对手，壮大自己，争取群众；策略的生命，在于其灵活性。船为绕过礁石，有时必须采取迂回；为了避开浪头，甚至走段回头路。关键是灵活二字。

我们的口号是，让勇气与道义使魔鬼退却；让战略与策略使魔鬼迷惑。

这次，浙江和山东的民运朋友们，在组党过程中的策略表现如何呢？我说，很好。我从天时、地利、人和等角度分析一下。

天时：时间是可以基本由自己掌握的。浙江选在美国总统克林顿访华期间举事；山东选在联合国人权委员会高级专员罗宾森夫人访华前夕响应。两个时间都不错。此时，中共一时不好抓，要给客人一个面子。几天之后，舆论已经造大，也难以下手。下了手，克林顿、罗宾森肯定要表态，中共后患无穷。

地利：浙江和山东都是民运力量比较雄厚的地方。

人和：浙江、山东的民运人士比较团结，心齐。除此之外，人员的分线安排也很有策略，第一线冲出来公开注册，第二线预备，第三、四线人员做后援和后勤。

提法：浙江明确表示尊重中国宪法，用“和平、理性、非暴力”的原则，推动中国大陆的民主化。山东的组党申请提出，尊重江泽民的国家元首地位，承认中共为执政党。这是毛泽东教出来的招术：“打着红旗反红旗” 。中共心知肚明，但是又不好说。棋下到这个地步，可说是出自高手。

做法：完全公开、合法、合中共的法。注册人员公开、纲领公开、做法公开。除了注册外，浙江朱康大还上街公开散发了上千份的“宣言”。王有才和王东海等人被抓后，二线人员通过合法手段申请示威抗议，明知得不到批准，但造成舆论，争取了同情。合法斗争还有一着：法律抗争。你不是有法吗？我就来个以法抗争。为此，各地民运人士组成了法律后援会，二、三线人员给被捕者聘请了律师。如果中共审判王有才，一场法律大战不可避免。其它的做法，如声援灾区、谴责印尼屠华等，不仅合法，而且得分。

总之，这次浙江和山东民运在策略上的操作，可圈可点，给后继者提供了不少借鉴。当策略灵活得使魔鬼迷惑时，我们算是相当地成功了。

前面还有很多弯路，还有很多浪头，还要设计一系列的策略。勇气带动下的策略运用，仍须我们仔细探讨。

（作者为中国之春创办人，现任民主正义党发言人）（1998, 9, 9）

Wang Bingzhang: Let Flexibility in Tactics Confound the Devil— Reflections No. 2 from the Zhejiang and Shandong pro-democracy Party-building groups(September 9, 1998)

Editor: Feng Reng Proofreader: Wang Bin Translator: Lyu Feng

The thunder in Zhejiang and the dawn in Shandong have elevated open pro-democracy activities inside the country to a new level—the level of organizing an open opposition party. A public opposition party is now in gestation.

Under an authoritarian system, the birth of an open opposition party (note: not one operating underground; that issue can be discussed later) requires many objective and subjective conditions. Here I want to speak only about the subjective factors, those that we in the pro-democracy movement can control. These include courage and tactics.

In my previous article, I focused mainly on courage. I have always maintained that courage is the primary element, the pioneer that clears the way. At present, bravery is the greatest moral expression. Imagine: if people were to walk toward prison cells with courage, even the most repressive prisons would be trampled flat, and their existence would lose meaning. The problem is that there are not many people with such courage. This brings up how to avoid or reduce the costs of repression, how to enable those with less boldness to participate, how to win the sympathy of the middle ground, and how to gain support from public opinion—in other words, questions of tactics.

Courage without strategy becomes political adventurism; strategy without courage becomes political conservatism. Both tendencies must be avoided.

Tactics are the bridges and boats—indispensable tools for reaching the other shore. Mao Zedong once said, “Policy and tactics are the life of the Party.” There is truth in that statement; one should not reject words simply because of who said them. Speaking of Mao, many may remember the Chongqing negotiations in 1946. When Mao arrived in Chongqing, he shouted, “Long live Chairman Chiang! Long live the Three Principles of the People!” bowing his head in submission and putting on a splendid political show. What was that? It was tactics. Some of Mao Zedong’s strategies in seizing power were successful. Without them, he could not have reached the other shore or achieved his political objectives.

Tactics are employed to bypass reefs and arrive at the destination. Their principle is to weaken the opponent, strengthen oneself, and win over the masses. The vitality of tactics lies in flexibility. To steer around reefs, a boat sometimes must take a detour; to avoid high waves, it may even have to retrace part of its path. The key word is flexibility.

Our slogan is: let courage and moral righteousness force the devil to retreat; let strategy and tactics confound the devil.

So how did our friends in Zhejiang and Shandong perform tactically during their party-building efforts? I would say: very well. Let me analyze this from the perspectives of timing, geographic advantage, and unity among people.

Timing: The moment can largely be chosen by oneself. Zhejiang acted during U.S. President Clinton’s visit to China; Shandong responded on the eve of the visit by U.N. High Commissioner for Human Rights Mary Robinson. Both moments were excellent. At such times, the authorities would find it inconvenient to make arrests—they must give face to their guests. A few days later, public opinion had already grown, making action more difficult. If arrests were made, Clinton and Robinson would surely have to respond, leaving the authorities with endless troubles.

Geographic advantage: Both Zhejiang and Shandong are places where the pro-democracy movement is relatively strong.

Unity: Activists in Zhejiang and Shandong are relatively united and of one mind. In addition, the arrangement of personnel into different lines was also strategic: the first line stepped forward to register publicly; the second line stood ready; the third and fourth lines provided support and logistics.

Formulation of demands: Zhejiang clearly expressed respect for China’s Constitution and advocated promoting democratization on the mainland through the principles of “peace, rationality, and non-violence.” Shandong’s application for party formation stated respect for Jiang Zemin’s position as head of state and recognized the Communist Party as the ruling party. This is a tactic taught by Mao Zedong: “opposing the red flag while carrying the red flag.” The authorities understand perfectly well, yet they find it hard to object. To reach this stage in the game can truly be called the work of masters.

Methods: Completely open, legal, and in accordance with the authorities’ own laws. The registrants were public, the platform was public, and the methods were public. Beyond registration, Zhu Kangda in Zhejiang even went into the streets and distributed thousands of copies of a “Declaration.” After Wang Youcai and Wang Donghai were arrested, second-line personnel applied through legal channels for demonstrations and protests. They knew approval would not be granted, but they created public opinion and gained sympathy. There is another move in lawful struggle: legal resistance. Don’t you have laws? Then we will use the law to resist. To this end, activists in various places formed legal support groups, and second- and third-line personnel hired lawyers for those arrested. If the authorities put Wang Youcai on trial, a major legal battle would be unavoidable. Other actions, such as supporting disaster areas and condemning anti-Chinese violence in Indonesia, were not only legal but also earned moral credit.

In sum, the tactical operations of the Zhejiang and Shandong activists this time were highly commendable and provide many lessons for those who follow. When tactics are flexible enough to confound the devil, we can say we are considerably successful.

There are still many bends ahead, many waves, and many more strategies to design. Under the impetus of courage, the application of tactics remains something we must continue to explore carefully.

(The author is the founder of China Spring and currently serves as spokesperson for the Democratic Justice Party.)(September 9, 1998)

作者：杨辰 编辑：冯仍 校对：程筱筱 翻译：周敏

在知乎上，一个热门问题引发了不少讨论：“为什么大多数中国人都是无神论者？”西方人眼中，中国人似乎缺乏信仰，但这其实是中共长期洗脑和操控的结果。中国人的“无神论”不是自然演化，而是被中共强加的意识形态枷锁，根植于几千年的历史文化，却被扭曲成服务于极权统治的工具。这篇文章从中西方差异入手，揭露中共如何通过压制宗教、推广唯物主义来维持控制，或许能撕开一些伪装的面纱。

拿史前大洪水的神话来说明中西方差异吧。西方传说中，上帝看到人间罪恶，便降下洪水惩罚，只怜悯诺亚一家，让他们建造方舟逃过一劫。这反映出西方文化中，神是绝对主宰，一切源于神的意志，强调个人与神明的精神连接。而在中国神话里，大禹带领民众艰苦奋斗，堵塞洪水、疏通河道，最终战胜灾害。这本是“人定胜天”的积极理念，但中共却将其篡改为集体主义神话，宣扬“群众力量”，实则掩盖他们对民众的奴役。中共的教育体系从小学起就灌输这些故事，不是为了启发独立思考，而是为了培养对党的盲从，让人民相信只有在党的领导下才能“战胜天灾”——就像他们宣传的抗疫“胜利”一样，忽略了无数被掩盖的悲剧。

许多人天真地认为中国人不信神是因为共产主义和马克思主义强调无神论，但这正是中共的宣传伎俩。实际上，中共正是利用中国历史文化的土壤，将无神论作为武器，摧毁传统信仰，代之以对党的崇拜。中国神话中神仙众多，道教有玉皇大帝、太上老君，佛教有如来佛祖、观音菩萨，还有财神爷、土地公等，各司其职。但在中共统治下，这些被贬为“封建迷信”，民众与神的关系被扭曲成“交易”：人敬神，神须服务。但中共不允许任何“神”凌驾于党之上，他们摧毁寺庙、迫害信徒，将宗教变成可控的工具。西方人祈祷是“上帝赐我力量，感谢上帝”，成功归功于神，失败自责。中国人求愿后，若实现就还愿，若不成则换庙——但在中共时代，连这点自由都被剥夺，寺庙成了党的宣传阵地，僧侣被迫学习“习近平新时代中国特色社会主义思想”。

举些例子就能看出这种扭曲。华北“晒龙王”的习俗，本是民间对神明的“讨说法”，但中共视之为“落后风俗”，在文革中被砸烂。民国军阀张宗昌炮轰龙王求雨的事儿，虽荒唐，却体现了不畏“神权”的民间精神；如今，中共却用“人工降雨”技术自夸“科技兴国”，实则在新疆等地用高科技监控宗教少数民族。乐山大佛因有“实绩”而受维护，但中共在西藏摧毁无数寺庙，强迫喇嘛“爱国爱党”，将宗教遗产变成旅游道具。动画《哪吒》里那句“拜了三年，生不出来，我砸了这破庙”，在今天会被审查为“负面能量”，因为它挑战权威——而中共最怕的就是人民挑战党的“神圣”地位。

中国人拜神多为实用主义，“无事不登三宝殿”，但中共将此妖魔化为“唯物主义胜利”，实则通过“破四旧”运动摧毁了亿万人的精神家园。西方人难懂这种模式，故觉得中国人敬神却不信神。但真相是，中共不允许真信神，因为那会分散对党的忠诚。少数虔诚信徒？他们被监视、关押，如法轮功学员或地下基督徒。汉字象形说有道理，难有统一一神教，但商朝的鬼神崇拜被周灭商后理性化——可惜中共篡改历史，将周易变成“辩证唯物主义”的伪装，废人祭是进步，但中共的“阶级斗争”造成更多死亡。

如今中国人“信仰”祖先，烧纸钱祭祖，但中共连这都控制：清明节被宣传为“文明祭扫”，禁止“迷信活动”。国外烧冥币潮流有趣，但在中国，中共用“无神论”教育从小洗脑，让人民无处寄托，只剩对党的“感恩”。中国人并非无信仰，而是被中共剥夺了自由信仰。王权大于神权的历史，被中共放大成极权大于一切，四次灭佛不过是小巫见大巫——想想新疆的再教育营、基督教会的“三自”控制。相比西方神明，中国人被逼信“伟大领袖”，这不是文化自信，而是极权奴役。在当下，这“无神论”不过是中共维持统治的谎言，唤醒需要真相。

Why Are Most Chinese People Atheists? From the Perspective of the CCP’s Manipulation of Culture and Belief

Author: Yang Chen Editor: Feng Reng Proofreading: Cheng Xiaoxiao Translation: Zhou Min

On Zhihu Q&A platform, a trending question sparked considerable discussion: “Why are most Chinese people atheists?” In the eyes of Westerners, Chinese people seem to lack faith, but this is actually the result of the CCP’s long-term brainwashing and manipulation. The “atheism” of the Chinese people is not a natural evolution, but an ideological shackle imposed by the CCP; it is rooted in thousands of years of history and culture, yet distorted into a tool serving totalitarian rule. This article starts with the differences between the East and the West to reveal how the CCP maintains control by suppressing religion and promoting materialism, perhaps tearing away some of the camouflaged veils.

Let’s use the myth of the Great Flood to illustrate the differences between China and the West. In Western legends, when God saw the wickedness of the world, He sent a flood to punish it, showing mercy only to Noah’s family and allowing them to build an ark to escape. This reflects that in Western culture, God is the absolute master, and everything originates from God’s will, emphasizing the spiritual connection between the individual and the divine. In Chinese mythology, however, Da Yu (Yu the Great) led the people in arduous struggle, blocking the flood and dredging river channels to eventually overcome the disaster. This was originally a positive concept of “man’s determination can conquer heaven,” but the CCP has distorted it into a collectivist myth, promoting “the power of the masses” to actually cover up their enslavement of the people. The CCP’s education system instills these stories from primary school onward, not to inspire independent thinking, but to cultivate blind obedience to the Party, making the people believe that only under the Party’s leadership can they “overcome natural disasters”—just like the “victory” in the anti-epidemic fight they promote, while ignoring the countless covered-up tragedies.

Many people naively believe that Chinese people do not believe in God because Communism and Marxism emphasize atheism, but this is precisely the CCP’s propaganda trick. In fact, the CCP utilizes the soil of Chinese history and culture to use atheism as a weapon to destroy traditional beliefs and replace them with worship of the Party. Chinese mythology has numerous deities: Taoism has the Jade Emperor and Taishang Laojun; Buddhism has the Buddha and Guanyin Bodhisattva; and there are also the God of Wealth, the Earth God, and others, each with their own duties. But under CCP rule, these are disparaged as “feudal superstition,” and the relationship between the people and the gods is distorted into a “transaction”: people respect the gods, and the gods must serve. However, the CCP does not allow any “God” to stand above the Party; they destroy temples, persecute believers, and turn religion into a controllable tool. When Westerners pray, it is “God give me strength, thank God”; success is credited to God, and failure results in self-reflection. When Chinese people make a wish, if it comes true, they fulfill their vow; if it does not, they switch temples—but in the CCP era, even this bit of freedom is stripped away. Temples have become the Party’s propaganda fronts, and monks are forced to study “Xi Jinping Thought on Socialism with Chinese Characteristics for a New Era.”

A few examples reveal this distortion. The custom of “sunning the Dragon King” in North China was originally a folk way of “demanding an explanation” from the deity, but the CCP regards it as a “backward custom,” and it was smashed during the Cultural Revolution. The story of the Republic-era warlord Zhang Zongchang shelling the Dragon King to pray for rain, though absurd, reflected a folk spirit that did not fear “theocratic power”; today, the CCP uses “artificial rain” technology to boast about “strengthening the country through science and technology,” while in reality using high-tech to monitor religious minorities in places like Xinjiang. The Leshan Giant Buddha is maintained because it has “actual results” (as a tourist attraction), but the CCP has destroyed countless temples in Tibet, forced lamas to be “patriotic and love the Party,” and turned religious heritage into tourism props. The line “I’ve worshipped for three years, yet I can’t give birth; I’ll smash this broken temple” in the animation Nezha would be censored today as “negative energy” because it challenges authority—and what the CCP fears most is the people challenging the “sacred” status of the Party.

The Chinese people’s worship of gods is mostly pragmatic—”one does not visit the temple unless there is a need”—but the CCP demonizes this as a “victory for materialism.” In reality, through the “Four Olds” movement, they destroyed the spiritual home of hundreds of millions. Westerners find it difficult to understand this pattern, so they feel that Chinese people respect gods but do not believe in them. But the truth is, the CCP does not allow true belief in God because that would disperse loyalty to the Party. What about the few devout believers? They are monitored and imprisoned, such as Falun Gong practitioners or underground Christians. There is logic in the theory that the pictographic nature of Chinese characters makes it difficult to have a unified monotheism, and the worship of ghosts and gods in the Shang Dynasty was rationalized after the Zhou defeated the Shang—unfortunately, the CCP falsifies history, turning the I Ching into a disguise for “dialectical materialism.” Abolishing human sacrifice was progress, but the CCP’s “class struggle” has caused even more deaths.

Today, Chinese people “believe” in their ancestors and burn joss paper to pay respects, but the CCP controls even this: the Qingming Festival is promoted as “civilized tomb-sweeping,” and “superstitious activities” are prohibited. The trend of burning “Hell Bank Notes” abroad is interesting, but in China, the CCP uses “atheist” education to brainwash from childhood, leaving the people with nowhere to place their spirit except for “gratitude” toward the Party. It is not that the Chinese people have no faith, but that they have been deprived of the freedom of belief by the CCP. The history of “royal power being greater than divine power” has been magnified by the CCP into “totalitarianism being greater than everything.” The four historical persecutions of Buddhism were small compared to this—consider the re-education camps in Xinjiang and the “Three-Self” control over Christian churches. Compared to Western deities, the Chinese people are forced to believe in the “Great Leader.” This is not cultural confidence; it is totalitarian slavery. At present, this “atheism” is merely a lie used by the CCP to maintain its rule; awakening requires the truth.

——第773次茉莉花行动：关于校园死亡、未成年人生命与被封存的真相

采访 / 整理：胡景 编辑：李聪玲 校对：冯仍 翻译：周敏

在中国驻洛杉矶领事馆前，第773次茉莉花行动如期举行。

这一次，行动的焦点并非某一具体个案，而是一个反复出现、却始终无法被完整回答的问题——中国校园与未成年人“非正常死亡”事件，为何信息总是迅速被封锁？同时公权力机关对家属进行全力打压？

由于事发地在中国大陆，我们无法去现场采访受害者家属或相关学校人员。本次采访对象，均为长期关注中国人权问题的海外民运与异见人士。他们虽不掌握现场证据，却坚持发声，持续追问那些被制度性掩盖的疑点。

“这不是孤立事件，而是一种反复出现的处理模式。”中国民主党党员黄娟指出，校园与青少年“非正常死亡”案件，在处理方式上呈现出高度一致的结构性特征。她表示，从公开案例与长期观察来看，多个事件中都出现了相似情形：结论被迅速定性为“自杀”或“意外”，关键证据无法核查，监控缺失，尸检、调查过程不透明，而家属及群众的合理质疑，却往往被迅速地纳入“维稳”框架。

“虽然这并不意味着每一个个案背后都有阴谋，但它清楚地说明，真相发现机制存在严重的结构性缺陷。”在黄娟看来，真正的区别不在于“是否发生意外”，而在于事后是否允许对事件进行独立调查、证据是否可复核、结论是否可以被质疑。而在这些案件中，处理目标往往着眼于“降温”和“风险控制”，而非最大限度地还原事实。

“为什么信息被封锁，而且几乎成了常态？”针对信息封锁与对家属的打压，黄娟直言，这并非个别失误，而是一种制度性结果。

未成年人死亡问题高度敏感，不只是因为未成年人处于生命最健康的时期，更因为未成年人是一个家庭的未来，一个家庭的希望。一旦信息公开，极可能引发舆情扩散乃至公众问责。在权力与程序严重不对等的情况下，证据掌握在校方或官方手中，家属却缺乏最基本的调查渠道。当“控制后果”被置于“查明真相”之前，封锁与压制便成了惯性选择。也正因如此，这类事件不断引发公众对“活摘器官”的持续质疑。

“当遗体处理高度封闭、证据无法核查时，客观上已经无法排除最严重的可能性。”“体制拒绝透明，不但无法自证清白，反而不断强化了最严重的指控。”

“如果我们不说话，这个社会就只剩下恐惧。”站在领事馆前的中国民主党党员朱晓娜，从个人经历与一个母亲的视角给出了另一种回答。她说，自己之所以参加这次茉莉花行动，是因为“真的忍不住了”。“一次、两次、三次……太多生命就这样被‘处理掉’，连一个说清楚的机会都没有。”在她看来，校园本应是最安全的地方，而现实却恰恰相反。当孩子在校园里出事，却一次次在沉默中“结案”，当真相被迅速封存、讨论被迅速压制，那种冷漠本身，就是对社会良知的摧毁。她坦言，站出来并非因为不害怕。但更让人害怕的，是未来有一天，当我们回头看时，明明知道不对，却选择了躲开、装作没看见，那是对一个人良心的摧残。但她拒绝被贴上“激进”的标签，因为“真正激进的，是一个连孩子都保护不了的制度。如果在中国，说一句真话是安全的，那么谁还会站在这里？又有谁愿意跨越千山万水，选择背井离乡？”

“我曾经也是那个‘什么都不知道的人’”，中国民主党党员刘芳的发言，则从“无知”开始。她说，在自己还生活在中国时，自己和绝大多数普通人一样，几乎完全不知道活摘器官的问题。新闻中只会强调“成功移植”、“医学进步”，却从不解释：器官是谁的？它从哪里来？为什么来得这么快？

真正的冲击，发生在她来到美国之后。通过接触法轮功组织、查阅大量公开资料、调查报告、证词与医学数据，她一点一点接近了那个从未被允许知道的现实。“这个过程对我来说是非常可怕的，因为我发现，这些事情不是发生在某个陌生的地方，而是发生在我熟悉的城市、医院，发生在我曾经生活的制度里。”她曾经以为，受害者只是被标签化的“少数人”。但后来意识到一个令人毛骨悚然的事实——中国大陆就是现实版的《一九八四》，在这样的极权体制下，每一个普通人，都可能成为潜在受害者，成为待宰羔羊。

她向我们提出了一连串无法被回避的问题：在中国，一个普通的十字路口都可以布满十几个监控，那么——为什么一个孩子在校园里死亡，真相却可以消失？为什么遗体可以在未经家属同意的情况下被转移？监控去了哪里？记录去了哪里？责任又去了哪里？

刘芳还从医学常识的角度指出：器官离体后的存活时间是以小时计算的，而血液配型、交叉配型、运输与手术准备，并不存在所谓的“科学奇迹”。然而这一切是如何安排的这么“井井有条”的？是谁把这样的链条安排的如此“天衣无缝”？所以“这不是技术问题，而是制度问题。”

面对“海外民运没有一手证据却不断发声”的质疑，黄娟的回答直指要害：在一个证据被系统性控制的环境中，要求“先有铁证再发声”，本身就是不可能完成的任务。

海外民运的意义，不在于替代司法定罪，而在于持续记录被压制的疑点，一起发声要求独立调查，防止沉默成为常态，从而尽最大的可能还原真相。“如果今天不追问，真相就会被永久掩埋，责任也会被消失，而风险则会被不断地复制。”

领事馆前的这场抗议并非为了制造对立，更不意味着对抗，而是一种坚持——在一个连追问都是有罪的社会环境之外，为那些再也无法开口的孩子发声，替那些被迫沉默的家属发声，向世界提出两个我们必须直面的问题：

他们到底是怎么死的？

中共何时会公开相关真相？

Questioning in Front of the Consulate

— The 773rd Jasmine Action: Regarding Campus Deaths, the Lives of Minors, and the Sealed Truth

Abstract: The 773rd Jasmine Action was held in front of the Chinese Consulate in Los Angeles, focusing on the long-standing issues of information blockade, lack of transparency in investigations, and the suppression of family members regarding unnatural deaths of minors and incidents on Chinese campuses. Overseas dissidents called for independent investigations and sought the truth that has been sealed away.

Interview / Compilation: Hu Jing Editor: Li Congling Proofreading: Feng Reng Translation: Zhou Min

The 773rd Jasmine Action was held as scheduled in front of the Consulate General of the People’s Republic of China in Los Angeles.

This time, the focus of the action was not a specific individual case, but a recurring question that has never been fully answered: Why is information regarding “unnatural deaths” on Chinese campuses and involving minors always swiftly blockaded? At the same time, why do public security organs exert full efforts to suppress the families?

Because the events take place in Mainland China, we are unable to interview the victims’ families or relevant school personnel on-site. The interviewees for this report are all overseas pro-democracy and dissident figures who have long monitored Chinese human rights issues. Although they do not possess on-site evidence, they persist in speaking out and continuing to question the doubts that are institutionally covered up.

“This is not an isolated incident, but a recurring pattern of handling,” noted Huang Juan, a member of the China Democracy Party. She pointed out that cases of “unnatural deaths” on campuses and among teenagers exhibit highly consistent structural characteristics in how they are handled. She stated that based on public cases and long-term observation, similar situations have appeared in multiple incidents: conclusions are quickly labeled as “suicide” or “accident,” key evidence cannot be verified, surveillance footage goes missing, and the autopsy and investigation processes are opaque. Meanwhile, the reasonable doubts of family members and the public are often swiftly incorporated into a “stability maintenance” framework.

“While this does not mean every individual case has a conspiracy behind it, it clearly illustrates that the truth-discovery mechanism has serious structural flaws,” in Huang Juan’s view. The real difference does not lie in “whether an accident occurred,” but in whether independent investigations are permitted after the fact, whether evidence is reviewable, and whether conclusions can be questioned. In these cases, the handling objectives are often aimed at “cooling down the situation” and “risk control,” rather than maximizing the restoration of facts.

“Why is information blockaded, and why has it become almost a norm?” Regarding the information blockade and the suppression of families, Huang Juan stated directly that this is not an individual error, but an institutional result.

The issue of the death of minors is highly sensitive, not only because minors are in the healthiest period of their lives, but also because they represent the future and hope of a family. Once information is made public, it is extremely likely to trigger the spread of public opinion and even public accountability. In a situation where power and procedures are severely unequal, evidence is held in the hands of the school or officials, while families lack the most basic channels for investigation. When “controlling consequences” is placed ahead of “finding the truth,” blockade and suppression become the habitual choice. It is precisely because of this that such incidents continuously trigger public suspicion regarding “forced organ harvesting.”

“When the handling of remains is highly closed and evidence cannot be verified, it becomes objectively impossible to rule out the most serious possibilities.” “The system’s refusal to be transparent not only fails to prove its innocence but instead continuously strengthens the most serious accusations.”

“If we do not speak, this society will be left with nothing but fear.” Standing in front of the consulate, Zhu Xiaona, a member of the China Democracy Party, provided another answer from her personal experience and the perspective of a mother. She said she participated in this Jasmine Action because she “really couldn’t bear it anymore.” “One, two, three times… too many lives are ‘disposed of’ just like that, without even a chance to explain clearly.” In her view, a campus should be the safest place, yet reality is exactly the opposite. When something happens to a child on campus and the case is “closed” repeatedly in silence, when the truth is quickly sealed and discussion is quickly suppressed, that coldness itself is the destruction of social conscience. She admitted that she did not stand out because she wasn’t afraid. But what is more frightening is that one day in the future, when we look back, knowing something was wrong but choosing to avoid it or pretend not to see it—that is the destruction of a person’s conscience. However, she refuses to be labeled as “radical,” because “what is truly radical is a system that cannot even protect children. If it were safe to tell the truth in China, who would still be standing here? And who would be willing to cross thousands of miles and choose to leave their homeland?”

“I used to be that person who ‘knew nothing,'” began the speech of Liu Fang, a member of the China Democracy Party. She said that while she still lived in China, she, like the vast majority of ordinary people, knew almost nothing about the issue of organ harvesting. The news would only emphasize “successful transplants” and “medical progress,” but never explained: Whose organs were they? Where did they come from? Why did they come so quickly?

The real shock happened after she arrived in the United States. By coming into contact with Falun Gong organizations and reviewing large amounts of public materials, investigation reports, testimonies, and medical data, she bit by bit approached the reality she was never allowed to know. “This process was very terrifying for me because I discovered that these things were not happening in some strange place, but in the cities and hospitals I was familiar with, and within the system I once lived in.” She once thought victims were just a labeled “minority.” But she later realized a hair-raising fact—Mainland China is a real-life version of 1984. Under such a totalitarian system, every ordinary person could become a potential victim, a lamb to be slaughtered.

She posed a series of unavoidable questions to us: In China, an ordinary intersection can be covered with over a dozen surveillance cameras, so—why can the truth disappear when a child dies on campus? Why can remains be transferred without the family’s consent? Where did the surveillance go? Where did the records go? Where did the accountability go?

Liu Fang also pointed out from the perspective of medical common sense: The survival time of an organ after leaving the body is measured in hours, and blood matching, cross-matching, transportation, and surgical preparation do not involve so-called “scientific miracles.” Yet how is all of this arranged so “orderly”? Who arranged such a chain to be so “seamless”? Therefore, “this is not a technical problem, but an institutional problem.”

Facing the skepticism that “overseas pro-democracy movements lack first-hand evidence yet continue to speak out,” Huang Juan’s answer hit the nail on the head: In an environment where evidence is systematically controlled, demanding “ironclad evidence before speaking” is itself an impossible task.

The significance of the overseas pro-democracy movement does not lie in replacing judicial sentencing, but in continuously recording the doubts that are suppressed, speaking out together to demand independent investigations, and preventing silence from becoming the norm, thereby doing the utmost to restore the truth. “If we do not question today, the truth will be permanently buried, responsibility will disappear, and risks will be continuously replicated.”

This protest in front of the consulate is not intended to create confrontation, nor does it signify opposition; rather, it is a form of persistence—to speak for those children who can no longer speak, and for those families who are forced into silence, outside of a social environment where even questioning is a crime, posing two questions to the world that we must face directly:

How exactly did they die?

When will the CCP make the relevant truth public?