From “Knowing the Law” to the Abyss: The Prison Cry of an 89 Democracy Movement Participant
How the CCP’s Laws Serve as a Fig Leaf for Its Rulers
Firsthand Account by: Wang Lijun
In the CCP’s official grand narrative, “governing the country according to law” has always been a loudly touted slogan. However, for any ordinary Chinese person who has truly experienced the pressure of the CCP’s judicial machine, these eight words are nothing more than a fig leaf used to cover up dictatorial and violent rule. My personal experience stands as a prime example of the cruel truth beneath this “fig leaf.”
In the early summer of 1989, a wave of democracy swept across the entire nation. Shiyan was a Third-Front city with a urban population of only a little over 300,000 at the time. Although this “Auto City”—built around the Dongfeng Motor supply chain—was far from Beijing, it was no longer staying silent. Home to multiple institutions of higher education and tens of thousands of passionate young students and intellectuals, it let out a cry of resistance.
At the time, I was working in the Research Administration Department of Hubei Automotive Industries Institute. Initially, due to my father’s earnest warnings, I maintained caution toward political movements. However, the news of gunfire in Beijing on the night of June 4, 1989, completely shattered my illusions and silence. “How could they actually open fire?” Unable to sleep all night, I made my choice amid tears and rage.
On June 5, wearing a black armband to mourn my compatriots, I rushed onto the streets alongside the students. In Shiyan’s Youth Square, slogans like “Give Us Back Our Compatriots!” and “Blood Debts Must Be Paid in Blood!” echoed to the skies. The protest march rapidly grew from several hundred people at the start to tens of thousands. Seeing common citizens cheering on the protesting students and even shouting “Stand up!”, I felt immense pride—at a time of national crisis, I chose to step forward. To support the students protesting in front of the Final Assembly Plant, I pawned my own watch to a shopkeeper in exchange for water and steamed buns to satisfy their hunger.
As the moment of reckoning arrived, the CCP’s ugly face of “settling accounts after the event” was exposed without reservation. A so-called “Double Clean-up” (cleaning up thoughts and cleaning up class ranks) movement was launched across the entire university, requiring “everyone to pass the test, everyone to state their position.”
Faced with this grand test of human nature, there were flatterers and hypocrites. Even worse were people like Lai Fumei, the head of the Student Affairs Department, who openly declared at a general assembly that he was “infiltrating the students on behalf of the Party organization.” Confronted with such shameless behavior, we all denounced him as a “shameless scoundrel.”
When it came to my turn to state my position, I refused to tell lies. Facing my department leader’s inducement that “Communists must tell the truth,” I expressed my fundamental stance without reservation, quoting Mao Zedong: “Those who suppress student movements never come to a good end!” However, this truthful statement born of conscience instantly turned into a weapon stabbed into me. The leader silently noted down this remark in a little notebook and reported it up through the ranks, level by level. Soon after, police from the Political Security Section of the Dongfeng Motor Company Public Security Department came knocking on my door. Facing a policeman slapping the table and clamoring to make an arrest, I, still harboring illusions about the CCP’s laws at the time, argued on strong grounds: “Did you make the nation’s laws? I haven’t broken the law!”
The other party’s reply was simple and crude: “If I say you’ve broken the law, you’ve broken the law. I can arrest you anytime!”
I used to believe that I “knew a bit about the law.” There was a popular saying circulating in society: I don’t steal, I don’t rob, and I don’t oppose the Communist Party; who can do anything to me? But when the police came to my door and forcibly demanded to enter and search the house, I stood on grounds of reason and demanded to see a “search and arrest warrant.” During interrogation by the Political Security Section, I admonished the handling officers with righteous indignation: “Your attitude toward me today is discrimination against China’s democracy movement. Aren’t you worried that when we are rehabilitated in the future, we will settle accounts with you?”
However, under a dictatorial system, so-called search warrants, procedural justice, and freedom of speech were all inferior to a single sentence from a leader or a single letter of report from a petty person.
In the face of instigation by petty individuals within the system, retaliation by local bureaucrats against “loss of control,” and strict orders handed down from top leadership, legal provisions were a mere formality. At the end of December 1989, upon learning that I was about to be arrested, I was still half-doubting and harboring illusions, thinking they would at most lock me up for a few days just to teach me a lesson. I thought that if I ran outside to hide for a few days, things might blow over. So I packed up some temporary daily necessities, climbed over a wall to escape, and roamed the edges of the earth. Twenty days later, I was betrayed and arrested, landing in prison. The person who betrayed me was an electrician in the Infrastructure Construction Section of the Dongfeng Motor Company Thermal Power Plant named Yin Weimin. By chance, I had once heard him chatting with others, boasting about his close ties with the Public Security Bureau. Driven to utter helplessness during my flight, I called him to ask for help. He said, “How big a deal could it be for you?” He added that he was going on a business trip to Ningbo in a few days and needed to discuss certain matters with me face-to-face, asking me to come to his house immediately—where I was caught on the spot by police ambushed in his home. For his meritorious service in betraying me, he was immediately admitted to the Party and exceptionally promoted to Chief of the Infrastructure Construction Section.
I entered hell and suffered endless torture in prison, while he gained a promotion.
As a young teacher holding a regular university degree, harboring a sense of justice, and dutifully conducting scientific research, I became a total victim of this political movement simply because I spoke a few words of truth, shouted a few slogans, and offended a few opportunistic scoundrels.
“Before being arrested, I fully believed in China’s laws; but after being arrested, my mindset was completely upended. China’s law is just a fig leaf… one could even say China has no law at all. They have the final say and can arrest whoever they want.” Recalling this period of history brings me immense pain.
My encounter is not an isolated case, but a microcosm of tens of thousands who suffer persecution under the CCP regime. My case shocked the Hubei Automotive Industries Institute of that year, as well as the entire Auto City. People passed it from mouth to mouth: “Teacher Wang was harmed by petty scoundrels.”
This personal experience, still soaked in blood and tears after decades, reveals an ironclad fact to the world once more: in the CCP’s dictionary, there is no true rule of law, but only the arbitrary exercise of power and the brutal suppression of dissenters. The so-called law is draconian rule for the common people, while for the ruling class, it is nothing more than a scrap of paper that can erase basic human rights at any moment.
Edited by: Zhang Zhijun Proofread by: Wang Bin Translated by: Ge Bing
How the CCP Extracts and Controls 70% of Society’s Wealth
Author: Yi Yong
When discussing the distribution of national wealth in modern states, the general public often focuses its attention on explicit personal income tax or corporate income tax. However, beyond the tax bills visible to the public, China has established an extremely unique and massive mechanism for wealth extraction. Through a multi-pronged strategy combining taxation, land finance, state-owned enterprise (SOE) monopolies, and financial suppression, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has, in essence, brought nearly 70% of the newly created wealth and existing stock assets of society directly or indirectly under the control and allocation of the system. “70%” is not only an intuitive conceptual abstraction, but also an objective reality woven together through macro-economic distribution structures, state control over assets, and implicit extraction mechanisms.
The most critical macro-indicator measuring social wealth distribution is the proportion of household disposable income relative to GDP. This directly reflects how much of the newly created annual wealth actually flows into the pockets of ordinary people, and how much is retained by the government and public sectors. Comparing the national distribution structures of typical mature economies such as the United States and Japan, the United States leaves nearly 80% of its GDP output to the household sector, while Japan also maintains a level of nearly 60%. In contrast, Chinese households receive only about 44%, while the remaining 56% of the output is taken away right at the primary distribution stage by fiscal taxation, state-owned enterprise retention, and state capital.
In addition to the inherent tilt in primary distribution, the CCP has also set up an extremely efficient invisible extraction pipeline through unique administrative authorizations and resource monopolies. In the massive real estate industry chain, 60% to 70% of the residential sales price ultimately flows into local government treasuries in the form of land transfer fees, various real estate taxes and fees, and profits of state-owned enterprise developers. By comparison, housing payments in countries like the United States and Japan mainly flow into the construction market and private real estate enterprises, with the government collecting only property taxes to fund public community services. Furthermore, unlike countries such as the United States and Japan, which rely mainly on direct taxation, China’s tax system relies primarily on indirect taxes such as value-added tax (VAT) and consumption tax. These tax burdens are concealed within the prices of daily goods, causing all consumers to invisibly bear turnover tax burdens whenever they buy items for food, clothing, shelter, or transportation.
Beyond the extraction of flow wealth, the government’s control over society’s overall existing stock wealth and core resources has reached the extreme. Foundational industries such as energy, telecommunications, finance, and railways are exclusively operated by state-owned enterprises, which continuously pass costs down to the whole society through high basic service prices, thereby converting the profits of private enterprises and individuals into SOE revenues. Meanwhile, through interest rate controls and restrictions on capital outflows, the bank savings of the general public remain in a state of practical low interest rates over long periods. This low-cost civilian capital is directionally injected into state-owned enterprises and local financing platforms, completing a substantive transfer from “private savings” to “state capital.”
The so-called “70%” represents not only the government’s absolute control over the core capital stock of land, finance, and mineral resources, but also reflects the reality that after deducting land cut-offs, implicit tax burdens, SOE monopoly premiums, and exorbitant administrative costs, the actual share of wealth that ordinary citizens can freely allocate and retain has become remarkably small. In contrast to the structure of “storing wealth among the people” seen in countries like the United States and Japan, the CCP—through this four-in-one extraction system encompassing “taxation, land, SOEs, and finance”—has achieved a high degree of concentration and control over all social wealth. Although this system equips the state with an extraordinarily high capacity for resource mobilization, it also severely squeezes private consumption and autonomous development space.
Editor: Li Jing Proofreader: Kong Xiangqing Translator: Shen Meihua
A First-Hand Account of Political Persecution, Surveillance, and Transformed Fate After 1989
By Wang Lijun
November 2025: Surveillance Resurfaces After More Than Three Decades
On a day in November 2025, more than thirty years later, Wu Jun was once again taken away by local domestic security officers.
He never expected that the political storm of his youth, though more than three decades past, had left him with a political label that still failed to vanish from his life.
He was photographed anew, his fingerprints were collected, his voice was recorded, and he was required to write out a full account of his experiences over the past thirty-plus years. The police told him that this was necessary because his identity dossier needed to be re-established.
More than thirty years have passed, turning a young man into an elder, yet that invisible hand appears never to have let go.
This brings back memories of 1989, and of the people and events around us in the years that followed.
This is no mere tale from a history textbook.
This is a life I personally experienced and witnessed with my own eyes.
I. The Spring of 1989
At the turn of spring and summer in 1989, I was working in the Research Office of Hubei University of Automotive Technology.
That year, great changes took place on campus. Students, teachers, and visitors from outside were everywhere. Big-character posters, small-character posters, debates, broadcasts, and various discussions filled the campus. Young people were full of hope for the nation’s future and began to reflect earnestly on where China should head.
I got to know Wu Jun. Wu Jun was an outstanding graduate from the Department of Mathematics at Wuhan University and had been the top scorer in the National College Entrance Examination for Songzi County, Hubei Province that year. After graduating from university, he came to the Department of Basic Courses at Hubei University of Automotive Technology to teach mathematics.
In the past, I was not someone who cared particularly about politics. My parents had also repeatedly warned me not to take part in political activities. However, when society as a whole is undergoing monumental changes, it is difficult for an ordinary person to remain entirely uninvolved.
Some young teachers and I began discussing what was happening in Beijing. The young people hoped that the country would change, that corruption would be fought, and that China would have a better future.
Yet, having experienced the “Cultural Revolution” since childhood, I harbored a fear of the consequences brought by political movements—a fear distinct from that of the younger generation. My father had once taken part in the revolution and had also been through multiple political movements. He warned me not to participate in political activities because political movements could bring severe consequences.
It was not until everything that subsequently unfolded took place that I truly came to understand my father’s worries from back then.
II. A Speech from the Rostrum
One day, I arrived near the school auditorium. Inside, there were many students. A student who recognized me saw me and called out, “Teacher Wang, you are here. Come on in.”
Surrounded by the students in this manner, I walked into the auditorium and was even pushed onto the rostrum. They asked me to say a few words.
I was unprepared, nor did I expect there to be so many video cameras and photo cameras.
I stood there, looked at the young students, and said to them: Your intentions may be good, and you hope to combat corruption and wish for the country to become better. However, you are still young; have you ever thought about the consequences of participating in a political movement?
I told them that based on my past experiences and the experience of my parents’ generation, the consequences of a political movement could be extremely severe.
I even asked them, “Have you ever thought about death?”
The venue suddenly fell silent.
I told them that if they had not prepared themselves for sacrifice, they should go back and complete their studies. If they had already decided to continue, they must know what they might face.
When I spoke those words at the time, it was not because I wished for them to come to harm, but precisely because I hoped these young people could protect themselves.
However, I never imagined that those video cameras had already recorded it all. Later, these video images and my speech became an inescapable part of my life.
III. After June, the Campus Suddenly Fell Silent
After June 1989, the campus changed completely.
When I visited the young faculty dormitories again, the past hustle and bustle had vanished. The hallways were extraordinarily quiet. I knocked on one door after another, only to find that many young teachers had already left.
Later, I was arrested and sentenced to fixed-term imprisonment.
During the interrogations, public security officers asked me, “How did you know that shots would be fired in Beijing?”
I replied, “Because it had already happened.”
They continued to ask me who I had contact with in Beijing. I said that I had no contact with anyone. They even asked me whether I knew Zhao Ziyang, Deng Xiaoping, or Li Peng. I said, “I know their names, but they do not know me.”
During one interrogation, someone told me, “We are not settling accounts with you after the autumn harvest; we are settling accounts with you in the winter.”
To this day, I still remember those words.
IV. Wu Jun’s Choice
Wu Jun and I were quite close. During that period in 1989, we often discussed the state of the nation and the situation in Beijing in his dormitory room. He knew my viewpoints, and I knew his thoughts.
Later, when news of the armed crackdown in Beijing arrived, Wu Jun was deeply shocked. When he heard that I had been arrested, he did a certain thing.
On June 4, 1990, he posted a big-character poster at the school gate, demanding that the government release me.
This big-character poster quickly drew the attention of the public security departments. Later, Wu Jun was also arrested. According to my understanding, he was ultimately sentenced to one year of fixed-term imprisonment on charges of “counter-revolutionary incitement” and deprived of his political rights.
V. Torment in Prison
Wu Jun was short of stature and physically far from strong. Later, I learned that he endured severe torture and abuse in the detention center and prison.
On one occasion, when he was unable to continue manual labor due to his physical condition, the prison officers did not truly allow him to rest; instead, they had other inmates tie him up and hang him from a tree, forcing him to watch the others work.
He also suffered long-term hunger because he was physically weak and lacked the ability to protect his own food.
These experiences cannot be explained merely by an individual’s political views. For an ordinary person, once entering prison, they have already lost the most basic rights of choice in normal life.
After my release from prison, I personally went to pick up Wu Jun. He was no longer that young teacher of university mathematics, once brimming with ideals.
However, I did not abandon him. Because he possessed no other skills to earn a living, I had him join my small team to work, placing him in charge of procurement and certain routine affairs. Later, when moving to Beijing, I brought him along to work in my company.
I did so simply hoping that he could begin his life anew. Yet, for him, a true “fresh start” seemed never to arrive.
VI. Being Released from Prison Does Not Mean Gaining Freedom
Wu Jun later went to many places: Beijing, Qingdao, Shenzhen, Zhuhai, Guangzhou, Guilin…
He once did business, once engaged in writing, and once taught. However, based on what I have long known of his situation, no matter where he went, he lived in fear of being targeted and monitored by national security agencies.
He repeatedly changed his jobs and places of residence due to financial hardship.
An outstanding university mathematics graduate—a man who could have lived a normal life, taught, and provided for a family—was forced to live in constant fear for decades because of a political movement that took place long ago.
This has made me realize more and more clearly:
What is truly terrifying is not merely a single arrest.
What is truly terrifying is that a person’s past may follow them forever.
VII. More Than Thirty Years Later
In November 2025, it happened again.
According to what Wu Jun later told me, local domestic security officers took him away. He was brought into a room to be photographed again, have his fingerprints collected, and be required to leave his personal information anew.
They also made him read a large amount of text aloud to record his voice, and required him to write out his life experiences over the past few decades. He wrote continuously from daytime until past ten o’clock at night. During this time, he had nothing to drink and nothing to eat.
Later, the police told him that they were executing official duties upon receiving orders from higher authorities. The reason given was: because more than thirty years had passed since the original case and his appearance had changed, it was necessary to re-establish his file.
They also told him: “Wherever you go, your case file will follow.”
They warned him not to talk or act out of turn, and not to make contact with so-called “hostile forces” overseas. Finally, they told him: “Your every word, every action, and every move are under our surveillance.”
VIII. Just How Long Must a Person Be Tracked?
I often ponder:
When a person has already paid the price for their past, why can they still not attain true freedom decades later?
If the laws of a country have already handed down a sentence, then after the term of imprisonment ends, shouldn’t a person regain the right to a normal life?
If a person has already grown old, yet events from decades ago are still dug up anew, with dossiers re-established and surveillance resumed, then when exactly will this kind of control ever end?
To these questions, I have no answers.
However, I know what I have seen with my own eyes.
I know what Wu Jun has gone through.
I also know that in that era, many people had the destiny of their entire lives changed simply because they uttered a sentence, posted a big-character poster, joined a discussion, or even merely knew a certain individual.
IX. Why I Write This Down
I write these things not out of hatred.
Quite the contrary, I believe that if a nation truly hopes to move toward the future, it must dare to confront its own history.
History is not for revenge. History is for remembering.
If a society forgets what once happened, the same tragedies may occur all over again.
I am not a historian, nor am I a political scholar. I am simply a person who personally lived through that era.
My level of education is not high, I do not possess florid language, nor do I have the ability to write these matters down with great beauty.
However, I am willing to speak out about the things I know.
Because I believe:
Truth itself possesses power.
Though some wounds are more than thirty years past and may appear healed on the surface, in the hearts of those who lived through them, they may never have truly vanished.
This is why I record this history.
Not to cause the next generation to live in hatred, but in the hope that the next generation may live in a world where freedom is no longer lost on account of thoughts, speech, and political viewpoints.
Let history be seen, let the sufferers be remembered, and let freedom be cherished all the more.
This is the true meaning of why I wrote down this story.
Edited by: Zhang Zhijun Proofread by: Kong Xiangqing Translated by: Ge Bing
How the Chinese Government Cuts Off the Transmission of Christian Faith from the Next Generation
By Xiaocai Liu
Joel 1:3 in the Bible states: “Tell your children of it, and let your children tell their children, and their children another generation.” Deuteronomy 4:9 also cautions us to take heed and diligently keep ourselves, lest we forget the things which our eyes have seen, and “teach them thy sons, and thy sons’ sons.”
Whenever I read these two passages of scripture, a vital question comes to mind: If our next generation is unable to access our faith, will everything we stand for today still exist decades from now?
In my view, this is precisely a grim reality that Chinese Christians must face today.
The Christian faith has never belonged solely to a single individual, nor to a single era. The grace, suffering, discipline, and testimony we have experienced need to be told to our children, and then told by our children to their next generation. It is precisely in such intergenerational transmission that faith endures, and the history, memory, and values of a Christian community can be preserved from generation to generation.
For the vast majority of Christian families, a child’s earliest knowledge of God is not because they have read numerous works of theology, nor because they can understand complex doctrines.
The earliest exposure a child receives to faith usually takes place within their own home.
When parents pray, the child sees it; when parents read the Bible, the child hears it; on Sundays when parents go to church, the child goes along with them. In such family life, the child gradually comes to know the Bible, the church, and the Christian faith.
Therefore, I have always believed that if one wishes to weaken a religion, one of the most effective methods is not necessarily to immediately force this generation of adults to abandon their faith altogether, but rather to cut off the path of faith leading to the next generation.
Because adults, after all, will grow old.
If there is no next generation, even if a religion still possesses many believers today, it will face an entirely different situation decades from now.
The Next Generation Barred Outside the Church
On February 1, 2018, the newly revised Regulations on Religious Affairs were officially implemented. Since then, under principles such as the “separation of education and religion” and local religious administration practices, minors’ participation in religious education and religious activities has been restricted.
In my view, where this matter truly warrants vigilance is not merely whether “a child can enter a church.”
What it truly impacts is: whether a Christian family can still fully pass its faith down to the next generation.
Adults already possess their own faith. Even when facing pressure, they can still pray on their own, read the Bible, and find ways to continue their religious lives.
But children are different.
If a child cannot normally participate in church life from an early age, cannot attend Sunday school, cannot study the Bible with children from other Christian families, and cannot experience a complete faith community life, then the connection between them and their parents’ faith will gradually weaken.
Today, what we see is merely a child unable to normally participate in certain religious activities.
But what about ten years from now?
What about twenty years from now?
When today’s children grow into adults, if they have already become very estranged from their parents’ faith, will they still continue to pass this faith down to their own children?
If the answer is no, then in another generation, their children will not even know at all how their grandparents once prayed, how they read the Bible, and how they persevered in their faith.
Therefore, I believe this impact is by no means something that can fully manifest in just a few years.
Its true consequences will require ten, twenty, or even thirty years before we can see them clearly.
Faith Is First and Foremost Transmitted Within the Family
I believe that to understand this issue, one must first comprehend a fundamental point:
Religious faith is not an ordinary social organization.
A company can find consumers through advertising, and an association can recruit members through publicity, but in many cases, religious faith stems first and foremost from the family.
For a Christian father or mother, taking their child to church, teaching the child to pray, and telling the child stories from the Bible are not merely participating in a certain type of social activity.
This is part of family education, as well as a way for parents to transmit to their child the values and faith they consider most important.
If a Christian believes that the words of the Bible are true, then they naturally hope that their child will also be able to understand this content. As for whether the child will continue to believe after reaching adulthood, the choice should ultimately be made by the child themselves according to their own conscience.
However, if a child has fewer and fewer opportunities even to understand their parents’ faith, then where can we begin to talk about so-called “choice”?
A more practical problem is that when parents cannot conveniently bring their children to participate in church activities, for families without relatives to help care for the children, the parents’ own attendance at worship services will also be affected.
Thus, what we witness is a chain reaction:
Children cannot normally attend church, and it becomes increasingly difficult for parents to attend church as well; the connection between the family and the church gradually weakens, and the next generation grows increasingly estranged from faith.
In the end, what is affected is not merely a single person, but the entire family.
And when such a situation occurs in more and more families, what changes is not just the religious life of a few households, but the future demographic structure of the church in China. The original manuscript of the article also specifically pointed out that if the younger generation is unable to continuously enter the church, it will in the long run cause aging within the church and a fault line in intergenerational faith transmission.
Stepping into some churches today, we can still see many middle-aged and elderly Christians.
But what about ten years from now?
What about twenty years from now?
As today’s middle-aged and elderly believers gradually grow old, if young people do not continue to enter the church, then who will take over the Bible from their hands?
Who will continue their prayers?
Who will tell their testimony to the next generation?
When Faith Is Politicized
In my view, to understand the environment facing Chinese Christianity today, one must also observe another background: the Chinese government’s long-standing, high level of vigilance toward overseas religious organizations and the connections between foreign forces and local Chinese churches.
Within official political security discourse, concepts such as “foreign infiltration” and “peaceful evolution” have long existed.
Once religion is brought into such a political security framework, many issues that originally belonged to personal faith, family education, and church life easily become endowed with political significance.
This is precisely what worries me the most.
When a father brings his child to church, he merely hopes his child understands why the father believes in God.
When a mother teaches her child to pray, she merely hopes to impart her faith and life experience to the child.
When a church runs Sunday school for children, it is itself a form of religious education.
However, once religious propagation, foreign contacts, and political security are linked together, the religious education of the next generation easily becomes an object of strict administration. The core issue discussed in the original manuscript is precisely the long-term impact generated after religious administration further extends from churches and adults to families and the next generation.
Therefore, I would like to raise a few very simple questions:
To what extent should a government ultimately intervene in the religious education of a family?
Do Christian parents have the right to let their children understand their faith?
Does a child have the right to understand why their parents believe in Christianity?
Can they, after understanding it, grow into adulthood and then decide whether to believe or not based on their own conscience?
These questions are no longer merely issues of church management, but concern the most fundamental boundaries among family, education, faith, and personal choice.
The Most Fearful Changes Are Often Invisible
Closing down a church is something we can see immediately. Tearing down a cross is also something we can see immediately. However, there is a kind of change that does not instantly appear before our eyes. That is the severance of faith transmission.
It will not yield obvious results in the first year. Five years later, we might even still feel that not much has changed, because there are still adults and the older generation of Christians inside the church.
Yet twenty years later, when today’s children have grown into adulthood, only then will we truly witness the consequences.
If a generation of children has no opportunity from an early age to normally enter the church, no opportunity to participate in religious activities, and no opportunity to systematically understand their parents’ faith, the likelihood of them continuing their parents’ faith upon reaching adulthood naturally diminishes.
And once a faith fracture occurs within a family, attempting to re-establish this transmission becomes extraordinarily difficult.
Because faith does not exist merely within a book. Faith also exists within life.
A child seeing how their father prays in times of difficulty, seeing how their mother reads the Bible, seeing how the church helps those in plight, and seeing how different families worship together—these childhood memories are themselves part of the transmission of faith.
These things cannot be fully made up for simply by giving someone a few religious books after they turn thirty years old.
Therefore, in my view, what truly determines the future of Chinese Christianity is perhaps not merely how many churches, pastors, preachers, or adult Christians remain in China today.
We should ask even more urgently: How many children today can truly come to know the God in whom their parents believe?
Thirty years from now, how many Christians will remain in China?
Why does the Bible repeatedly emphasize “pass it down to your sons and grandsons”?
Because once any faith loses the next generation, it can hardly have a future.
The government can enact religious regulations, manage places of worship, and limit the scope of activity for religious organizations.
However, when this administration further enters the family and affects parents’ transmission of faith to their children, what it touches is no longer merely a single worship service, nor merely a single church building, but the very foundation upon which a religious group sustains itself.
Therefore, I often think of an unsettling question:
In another ten, twenty, or thirty years, how many Christians will still exist on the land of China?
I do not know the answer.
Nor can anyone accurately answer this question today.
Yet I become increasingly convinced that the most far-reaching blow to a religion is not necessarily how many churches are closed down today, but making the next generation gradually ignorant of what a church signifies;
It is not necessarily how many Bibles are taken away today, but depriving the next generation of any opportunity, or even any interest, to open a Bible;
It is not necessarily forcing this generation of people to immediately renounce their faith, but making it impossible for their faith to continue to be passed on to the next generation.
Those who still persevere in their faith today will, after all, grow old.
What truly determines whether a faith can continue to exist is whether there are young people to take over the Bible from the hands of the previous generation; whether there are parents who can tell their children their faith, experiences, and testimonies; and whether there are children who can freely walk into a church, learn what their parents actually believe in, and then, upon growing up, make a choice according to their own conscience. The conclusion of the original text likewise brings the issue back to “how many Christians will remain in China ten, twenty, or thirty years from now” and whether the next generation can continue the faith.
The Book of Joel states: “Tell your children of it, and let your children tell their children, and their children another generation.”
In the past, when I read this verse, what came to mind was the transmission of faith.
Today, when I read this verse once more, what I feel is laden with an added weight.
Because for Chinese Christians today, “tell your children, and let your children tell their children” is no longer merely an instruction in a scriptural verse from over two thousand years ago, but has become a very real issue confronting our generation.
If one day, we still believe, yet are unable to tell our children of our faith; if we still hold the Bible in our hands, yet the next generation no longer knows why they should open it; if we still remember the prayers and hymns inside the church, yet the next generation possesses no such memories whatsoever;
Then, what Chinese Christianity truly loses will not be merely a single generation of believers.
What is lost is the future in which faith continues to be passed down.
And this is precisely what worries me the most today.
Editor: Zhang Zhijun Proofreader: Zhou Min Translator: Ge Bing
Politics and Democracy—Chapter 5: The Concept of Democratic Politics (Part II)
By Zhu Zhengming
(3) The Representation of Popular Will in the Rule of Law
The law applies to all societies that utilize written language. The law itself is a tool that can be adopted by any form of society and class, serving entirely different subjects.
There are laws of many temperaments: some lax and yielding, some strict and severe, some fractured and incomplete, and others woven with meticulous care. In the minds of the people, too, law occupies different altitudes. Certain laws are regarded with solemn respect, upheld willingly and almost instinctively by the public; others are scorned, violated at every turn, and drowned beneath the tide of collective disdain.
The vitality of any law rests upon the conscience and competence of those who enforce it. Yet when a statute is held in contempt by the majority—when violators abound and enforcers lack the time or strength to pursue them—only a few unfortunate souls, caught by chance, become its sacrificial victims. Such a law is already lifeless; it will slip quietly off the stage of society before long. But a law that accords with the common good, that earns the genuine respect of the people, can endure for centuries with scarcely a change.
To submit to laws fashioned by others is a kind of servitude; to submit to laws one has fashioned for oneself is a kind of freedom.
1. Representation in Legislation
Who formulates the laws and how they are formulated are the key factors determining whose will the laws represent and whose interests they serve.
The fundamental way to ensure that laws accord with the popular will is to let the masses directly formulate the laws themselves, allowing the people to become the authors of the law. Only in this way can morality become law, can law represent morality and popular sentiment, and can law accord with the interests of the broad masses, receiving their full respect and conscious observance.
The masses are a group composed of tens of millions of people; how can their will be extracted to form laws? Obviously, in a populous society, it is impossible for all people to personally participate in formulating all laws. Furthermore, formulating good laws requires specialized knowledge, which ordinary people may not necessarily possess, nor do citizens usually have sufficient time and energy to do it personally.
However, citizens possess the ability to identify among themselves who has such sufficient knowledge and competence, and who can represent their will. They can elect their own representatives to do it on their behalf. Therefore, except for a few momentous laws submitted to a nationwide referendum, the formulation of the vast majority of laws can be entrusted entirely to representatives authorized by citizens. In this way, it not only ensures the representation of popular will in laws and guarantees the good quality of legislative personnel, but also saves the time and energy of the broad masses, improving legislative efficiency.
Laws must absolutely not be formulated by government officials themselves. If laws are formulated by those in power themselves, granting them the power to both formulate and execute laws, it will present a massive temptation to the weaknesses of human nature. Since they belong to a class different from the rest of society with distinct interests, they will adapt the laws to suit their own needs.
The formulation of laws by a legislative body composed of full-time representatives directly elected by citizens is the sole avenue to manifest the representation of popular will in the law. Because laws concern the fundamental interests and modes of behavior of all citizens, the formulation of laws is a meticulous and necessarily cautious endeavor; full consideration should be given to the interests of all types of people in every aspect, and even if the minor interests of a few are impacted for the sake of the major interests of the majority, it must still be handled with prudence. When formulating laws, representatives of various differing interests must be permitted to express their opinions and engage in full deliberation, so that interests of all sides can be taken into account, various potential issues can be considered, rash enactment of laws can be prevented, and the fairness, rationality, rigor, and coherence of the laws can be guaranteed, making the laws the crystallization of collective wisdom.
A very simple and effective method to safeguard the rigor of laws is to adopt a slow, check-and-balance deliberative procedure. For instance, if a bill has not undergone five or six consecutive rounds of discussion, or if the time it has been submitted to the legislative body is too brief, it should not be voted on and passed. This practice is quite similar to how a wise person handles personal affairs; when dealing with major matters in their own lives, people naturally do not make decisions without thorough contemplation. Regarding any issue discussed by the legislative body, anyone may publish comments and opinions, and has the right to petition and protest on any issue. This is an effective means to guarantee that the rule of law conforms to the popular will and operates according to it.
Likewise, legislative representatives elected by citizens should not be allowed to hold office for long terms, but should be replaced frequently, so that they can continuously return among the masses, experience the lives of common people, feel the needs of the masses, and maintain the control of the masses’ will over them, thereby preventing them from forming a new privileged class, or being manipulated and bought off by a minority, becoming detached from the interests of the masses.
Periodic convening and dispersing during the term of office are equally necessary. Convening enables them to exercise the power of jointly formulating laws; dispersing, on the other hand, subjects them to the governance of the very laws they formulated.
This personal restraint makes them pay greater attention to the interests of ordinary people when formulating laws.
2. The Selection of Judges
Judicial organs likewise cannot be controlled by executive officials. One of the vital functions of the law is to prescribe the operational mechanisms of executive organs and constrain government behavior. If judicial organs are controlled by the government and subject to its jurisdiction, then when government officials break the law, it becomes impossible to effectively punish them or guarantee that everyone is equal before the law, leaving the law as a mere facade that devolves into formality and loses its authority. In certain societies, despite having good laws, there is no good legal order; the fundamental reason is that judicial organs are controlled by the government and are powerless against the corrupt conduct of the government itself, turning the law into a tool used exclusively against commoners. Therefore, only by enabling judicial organs to exist independently of the government can full and genuine rule of law be realized.
In a democratic society under the rule of law, judges bear heavy responsibilities and are held to extremely high standards of personal caliber; thus, the selection of judges is a matter that demands serious and earnest treatment.
Requirements for candidates for judgeships mandate not only noble character, outstanding moral conduct, and considerable social prestige, but also mastery in jurisprudence and sociology, profound scholarship, and long-term legal work experience; furthermore, they must pass rigorous rank examinations to become qualified for office. Electing judges is the fundamental means to ensure the judiciary represents the popular will. In small towns, judges can be elected directly through democratic elections; in metropolises, candidates for judgeships should be produced through indirect democratic means, namely elected by the parliament or appointed only upon parliamentary approval.
If candidates for judgeships are arranged for employment by the chief executive in a manner similar to placing personnel in other government organs—such as military veterans reassigned to civilian jobs, recruitment of workers and cadres, or assignments from colleges—and become judges after several years of promotion or professional title evaluation, it will ultimately lead to the judicial machinery being filled with the descendants and cronies of government officials, making it impossible to guarantee that judges possess superior personal caliber. When judges are of low moral and character caliber, they will commit nepotism and fraud when facing intricate social ties such as their own relatives, friends, and classmates, while litigants, in the vast majority of cases, cannot possibly discover such relationships to apply for the recusal of the handling judge. Judges dropping hints to each other in private, exploiting one another, showing leniency toward their respective friends and family, and favoring one party under vague legal statutes will all severely compromise the impartiality of rulings, harm the interests of litigants, and leave them with no avenue for appeal. Likewise, if judges are mediocre and unexceptional in terms of academic background, IQ, and capability, and inefficient in handling cases, misjudgments and miscarriages of justice will also become common occurrences, similarly damaging the authority of judicial organs. In a typical autocratic and corrupt society, where cases are sent to court through the front door while litigants seek out judges through contacts via the back door, and where judges exchange favors, exploit one another, deliver biased rulings, and separately reap benefits from litigants behind the scenes, it becomes a common and repulsive phenomenon. This causes the public to lose trust in judicial organs and forces common people to seek their own ways to resolve disputes, thereby leading to chaotic social order, intensified social contradictions, an increase in public security cases, and making the rule of law an empty phrase. Therefore, one of the crucial tasks in achieving democracy is to establish a system for the direct or indirect election, replacement, and recall of judges at all levels, ensuring that judges possess noble moral character and profound knowledge of law and sociology. Only judges produced in this way are qualified to undertake the heavy responsibility of maintaining social law and morality.
The democratic judicial process, like legislation, is a collective expression of the public will of society; it is not a government action and does not represent the government’s will. Therefore, the work attire of judicial personnel need not be uniforms similar to those of government officials, as such uniforms convey the false impression that judicial personnel are government officials; since they are representatives of the popular will, wearing typical democratic attire can better reflect this representation.
If letting the people formulate laws themselves is akin to installing the front wheels on society’s path toward the rule of law, then having the judicial process also controlled by the people themselves is installing the rear wheels for a society under the rule of law. Only then can a democratic society under the rule of law operate with ease and freedom.
3. The Representation of Popular Will in Verdicts
The function of the judiciary itself is to have a third party that holds an impartial stance and represents the popular will adjudicate all types of criminal cases, civil disputes, and other matters. A simple and feasible way to achieve this is to establish a jury system. The so-called jury system selects 6 to 15 citizens through random selection from lists of reputable and representative citizens across various communities and industries to form a jury and participate in the trial process of civil and criminal cases. All registered voters aged 18 to 65 are obligated to appear in court and serve as jurors at the request of the judge. During court investigations, the jury decides on questions related to the case, collectively determines the nature and facts of the case, and specifies the applicable legal provisions. The judge serves as the administrator of the judicial procedure and passes sentence in accordance with legal provisions based on the conclusions determined by the jury. Doing so can relieve individual judges of the heavy responsibility borne when determining cases and can also reduce the number of judges; furthermore, adjudications by non-professionals are often better able to represent the popular will. If opinions within the jury are too divided, it may be dismissed and a new jury formed to conduct a retrial.
No one is entirely immune to making mistakes, and no one can remain absolutely impartial at all times. The role of the jury is precisely to ensure that adjudicating cases possesses broader representation, to diminish the influence of a judge’s personal will on trial outcomes, and to promote the fairness of verdicts.
4. Openness of Trials
To ensure that justice is administered on behalf of the popular will, judicial trial procedures must be conducted openly, so that those who endanger society and infringe upon the rights of other citizens are publicly punished, serving as a deterrent to others. Furthermore, open trials subject trial outcomes to the supervision of public opinion and individuals from all walks of life, stripping away the aura of mystery surrounding judicial work and reducing the common people’s fear of judicial organs and their power. The hearing and verdict processes of cases should invariably be conducted in public, permitting journalists and citizens to freely attend and report on their proceedings, unless a case involves national defense secrets or a public hearing would harm social morality, and it is decided by unanimous consent of the judges to hold a closed hearing. Regarding political prisoners, publishing issues, and other cases involving citizens’ fundamental rights, all hearings must be conducted fully in public, enabling citizens to confirm whether the parties involved committed an infringement, how the infringement occurred, and how convictions are determined.
At the same time, the debate between plaintiff and defendant must be allowed to play a vital role throughout the trial. Only thus can many facts for which no witnesses exist, or which defy ordinary means of proof, be brought to light—lest a party, bereft of evidence, find himself isolated and helpless. When the court heeds evidence alone, especially in civil cases, misjudgment and miscarriage of justice too often follow simply because a party cannot produce the required proof.
Editor: Li Jing Proofreader: Kong Xiangqing Translator: Ge Bing
Dedicated to protesting the tightening of entry and exit management regulations under the name of “security”
By Lyu Cong
Abstract: Through the perspective of a bird, this poem conveys the restriction of citizens’ freedom and the impact on the human body and mind following the promulgation of new entry and exit management regulations. However, no matter how many regulations there are, they can only restrict physical freedom, but cannot shackle the freedom of the mind or the longing for liberty.
I am a bird
From the day I was born
I longed for the sky
Longed for the clear breeze
Longed to fly freely
I wanted to know
Whether the sky has an end
I wanted to fly over high mountains
I wanted to cross rivers
I wanted to see what distant places look like
I believed
I was born to fly
Born to have my own direction
Born to sing freely
In a sky of my own
So
I spread my wings
And took flight time and time again
Until one day
Dark clouds covered the sky
I flew under the eaves
A cage
Quietly appeared beside me
At first
I paid it no mind
I kept on singing
I still believed
That as long as I wanted to fly
I could soar
But later
Someone gently shut the cage door
“Click”
A lock
Was hung before the door
Locking away hope
I stood stunned
I asked
Why
There was no answer
I asked again
What did I do wrong
Still, there was no answer
Only that lock
Grew heavier with each passing day
While the rules inside the cage
Grew wilder with each passing year
Someone told me
It is very safe here
Do not fly
Someone told me
The sky is very dangerous
Do not gaze into the distance
Someone told me
As long as I stay quietly
I can keep on singing
So
I slowly learned to bow my head
I began to forget the smell of the wind
The direction of the clouds
And forget that this pair of wings
Was meant for flying
I also gradually forgot
How deeply I once longed
Longed to fly over mountain ridges
Longed to cross the oceans
Longed to find my own direction
In the free sky
Yet whenever night falls and all is quiet
When moonlight spills into the cage
I still lift my head
Gazing at that distant sky
I sing softly
One note and then another
The singing cannot pierce the cage door
Yet it pierces the long, dark night
That is no song of joy
It is a bird’s
Final longing for freedom
If a bird loses its flight
No matter how large the cage may be
It is nothing more than
A cell without visible walls
I am a bird
A bird that longs for the sky
Longs for the clear breeze
Longs for freedom
Even if the door
Is already heavy with locks
Even if the years
Age day by day
Even if someone tells me
You have grown accustomed to this place
Yet I know—
So long as I still remember the sky
I will not forget—
I am a bird
And a bird
Should, in the sky,
Bravely spread its wings and fly high
And soar in freedom
Editor: Hu Jing Proofreader: Zhou Min Translator: Ge Bing
When “Security” Becomes the Justification for Power
—Reflecting on Freedom and Totalitarianism on the 25th Anniversary of the “9/11” Terrorist Attacks
By Jia Jia
Abstract: Commemorating the September 11 terrorist attacks allows us to reflect on today’s world—particularly China—and how, while fighting terrorism, to limit the unchecked expansion and abuse of public power that erodes individual freedom. When individual freedom is severely eroded, it is precisely when a new form of totalitarianism emerges. The purpose of the state’s existence is to protect individual freedom, not to restrict it.
On September 11, 2001, the world changed.
On that day, the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York, USA, collapsed in a terrorist attack, and nearly three thousand vibrant human lives vanished instantly. The raging flames, billowing smoke, and images of people fleeing in panic were broadcast around the globe via television signals.
Twenty-five years have passed, yet people still cannot forget that morning.
Commemorating “9/11” is, first and foremost, to remember those innocent victims. But if commemoration remains confined to flowers, tears, and slogans, then the lessons history has taught us may be forgotten.
In the aftermath of “9/11,” what the world faced was not merely terrorism, but a more complex and profound question: When a society continuously pursues security out of fear, how much freedom are we truly willing to sacrifice for that security?
This is a problem that belongs to the United States, it is a problem that belongs to China, and it is even more so a problem that belongs to everyone living in modern political systems.
I. Terrorism Manufactures Fear; Power May Utilize Fear
The most direct goal of terrorism is to cause death, but its deeper purpose is to manufacture fear. Fear can alter human behavior.
A person afraid of war may be willing to accept greater military control; a person afraid of crime may be willing to accept ubiquitous surveillance; a person afraid of social unrest may even be willing to surrender the right to express an opinion.
Thus, “security” becomes one of the reasons by which political power most easily gains legitimacy. “For national security.” “For social stability.” “To prevent sabotage by hostile forces.” We are all too familiar with these phrases.
The problem lies in this: when “security” becomes an infinitely elastic concept, what exactly is left that cannot be subsumed under its scope? Does a person who criticizes the government threaten national security? Does a person who demands freedom of the press undermine social stability? Does a person who persists in an independent religious faith belong to a “dangerous organization”? Does a person who refuses to keep silent constitute a so-called “hostile force”?
Under a democratic system, these issues can at least be publicly debated, and can be constrained through the law, the media, and societal oversight. Yet in a system that lacks checks on power, “national security” can become an infinitely extending hand. It can reach into the media, reach into schools, reach into places of worship, reach into the internet, and even reach into the private lives of every ordinary individual.
In the end, people discover that while they may have gained a society that appears “stable,” they have lost a society in which they can breathe freely.
II. What Is Truly Terrifying Is Not Merely Terrorism, but Unlimited Power “in the Name of Security”
In the aftermath of “9/11,” the United States also expanded government power in the name of counterterrorism. Airport security checkpoints became stricter, intelligence agencies were granted more resources, and the government strengthened its counterterrorism framework. Simultaneously, fierce debate erupted within American society: how far, exactly, can the government go for the sake of counterterrorism? To this day, these debates endure.
Yet it is precisely this debate itself that embodies the key value of a free society. The government is not always correct, the president is not always correct, the intelligence agencies are not always correct, and even the so-called “national interest” is by no means immune to challenge.
The most precious aspect of a democratic society is not that it never makes mistakes, but that it allows people to point those mistakes out: the media can investigate the government, lawyers can challenge the government, the courts can limit the government, ordinary citizens can criticize the government, and voters can change the government through the ballot box. This means that any power exercised under the rationale of “security” must submit to scrutiny.
However, in a society where power is highly concentrated, the situation can be entirely different. There, no genuinely independent news media exists, no judicial system free from political interference exists, and a civil society capable of operating freely is lacking. Consequently, “security” ceases to be a tool for protecting the people and instead gradually turns into a tool for controlling the people.
If a government does not allow the people to criticize it, yet constantly demands that the people trust it; if it does not allow society to exercise oversight over it, yet demands that society yield absolute obedience to it; if it regards differing opinions as threats, then what it truly fears may not be “danger,” but rather the people possessing the capacity for independent thought.
III. Whose “Stability” Is It, After All?
In the Chinese political discourse, “stability” is a repeatedly emphasized term. No one opposes stability. No one desires war, violence, or social chaos. However, we must press the question: what does stability actually signify?
If a society experiences no public protest, is it because everyone is satisfied? Or is it because people know that expressing dissatisfaction can carry a heavy price? If a country’s media sings praises of prosperity every day, is it because no problems exist? Or is it because those who report on problems cannot speak out freely? If people do not discuss politics in public spaces, is it because they do not care about the country’s future? Or is it because they know that certain things must not be said?
Superficial quietness in a society does not necessarily represent true peace. Silence, too, is not equivalent to consent. Throughout history, many regimes that appeared “stable” accumulated immense underlying contradictions beneath the surface. Due to the lack of open expression and institutional channels for resolution, problems could neither be identified in time nor resolved in time. In the end, when the pressure breaks through the critical threshold, so-called stability can crumble overnight.
A genuinely healthy society is not one devoid of voices, but one that allows all kinds of voices to exist. Truly solid stability is likewise not built on fear and suppression, but founded upon fairness, the rule of law, respect, and civil rights.
IV. What Totalitarianism Fears Most May Not Be Enemies, but Free Individuals
A truly free person will think, will doubt, will raise questions, and will demand that power account for its actions. Therefore, any power seeking to achieve total control must inevitably remain vigilant against independent individuals. It wants people to accept only one voice, wants the media to disseminate only one narrative, wants schools to teach only one history, and wants the populace to practice only one form of patriotism. When a country can tolerate only one correct ideology, thought itself has, in truth, already died.
A healthy country should not fear dissenting opinions. On the contrary, dissenting opinions can help a country uncover its own flaws. Criticism is not equivalent to betrayal; opposing the government is not equivalent to opposing the nation; demanding democracy is not equivalent to undermining stability; and defending human rights should be deemed a hostile act least of all.
The nation belongs to the people, not to any single political party. The government should serve the people, rather than demand unconditional obedience from them.
A piece of common sense that appears so self-evident still constantly needs to be popularized in many countries.
V. After 9/11, We Ought to Treasure Freedom All the More
Twenty-five years have elapsed, yet the world has not grown any safer. Wars persist, extremism persists, and new conflicts continually surface.
At the same time, new technologies such as artificial intelligence, big data, facial recognition, and digital surveillance have granted governments unprecedented capacity for social control.
Technology itself possesses neither good nor evil. The question lies in: who holds the technology? Who oversees those who hold the technology? Lacking checks on power, technology originally intended to protect society can just as easily turn into a tool for monitoring society.
Where a person went, whom they met, what they said, what they read, or even what political views they expressed can all be recorded, analyzed, and stored. When a society gradually grows accustomed to being “watched,” it may eventually forget what true private space is. When people begin to self-censor out of fear of repercussions, power no longer even needs to explicitly prohibit anything. For fear has already entered everyone’s heart. This is perhaps one of the dangers in modern society most worthy of vigilance.
VI. Commemorating 9/11 Is to Refuse to Let Fear Govern Our Lives
“9/11” was a catastrophe engineered by terrorism. However, if twenty-five years later we still fail to grasp the relationship between fear and power, then our commemoration of this tragedy remains far from complete.
Terrorism attempts to strip away people’s sense of security through violence. At the same time, any unchecked power may exploit this insecurity to induce people to voluntarily surrender their freedom. Therefore, we must remain vigilant at all times. In the face of terrorism, we certainly require security. In the face of war and crime, we certainly require order. However, security cannot become a blank check for unlimited power, stability cannot become a pretext for suppressing freedom, and national interests cannot become an excuse for violating human rights.
Any government, no matter how noble its slogans may be, must be subject to oversight. Any power, no matter what name it assumes, must have boundaries. For history has told us time and again: when the people completely abandon freedom for the sake of security, they may ultimately lose both freedom and fail to truly attain security.
Today, twenty-five years later, when we commemorate “9/11” once more, we do so not only to remember the innocent lives that were lost, but also to honor the courage demonstrated by humanity in the face of disaster.
More importantly, we ought to reaffirm a simple yet firm conviction: fear cannot become a justification for enslaving freedom. Stability cannot become an excuse for stripping away rights. The state cannot stand above the people, and power can least of all stand above the law.
A genuinely powerful country does not make its people fear its government. Rather, it makes its people trust that: even when facing danger, they still retain the right to speak; even when criticizing the government, they remain protected by the law; even when confronting tyrannical power, they need not relinquish their dignity as human beings.
This, perhaps, is the most vital political insight that “9/11” leaves behind for the twenty-first century.
May the deceased rest in peace. May fear no longer serve as a pretext for the expansion of power. May freedom and dignity never be forgotten in humanity’s pursuit of security.
VII. For Chinese People, “Freedom” Has Never Been a Distant Topic
Today, as we commemorate “9/11” in the United States, for many overseas individuals from China, the discussion concerning freedom, security, and power sparked by this catastrophe is by no means a distant political topic. For we once lived in a society that placed “stability” in a position of paramount importance.
We understand the importance of order, and we understand the significance of national security. Yet precisely because of this, we ought to be all the more vigilant: when “security” and “stability” become unquestionable political shorthand, how much room actually remains for the freedom of ordinary people?
A state can be powerful, but power cannot serve as a reason to refuse oversight. A government can emphasize security, but security should not serve as a pretext to restrict freedom. A political party can govern for a long term, but long-term governance does not imply being forever in the right. Genuine national identity should not be built upon unconditional obedience to any single political party.
China belongs to the Chinese people; it is not the private property of any political group. Loving one’s country does not mean one must praise every government policy. Criticizing the ruling authorities does not equal betraying the nation. Demanding democracy, freedom, human rights, and the rule of law is by no means a conspiracy by so-called “hostile forces.” On the contrary, a person who truly cares about China’s future should possess the courage to face reality, point out problems, and strive to change them.
VIII. The Significance of Being “In Opposition”: Allowing Different Voices to Persist
The existence of Opposition Party magazine is itself a voice. Being “in opposition” does not mean opposing merely for the sake of opposition, much less generating hatred.
Genuine opposition means that outside mainstream power, there remain people willing to think, question, and speak out. When one voice attempts to monopolize truth, the voice of the opposition reminds people: truth should not be monopolized by power. When criticism is deemed dangerous, the voice of the opposition reminds people: criticism is an indispensable force for social progress. When people are required to remain silent, the voice of the opposition tells people: silence is not the only choice. The reason a democratic society can maintain its vitality is precisely that it permits opposition. There are those who govern, and there are those who oppose; there are majority opinions, and there are minority voices; there is power, and there is oversight.
There is no government that is forever right, nor is there power that needs no supervision. A genuinely mature state should not fear opposition. On the contrary, daring to allow different political forces to compete openly is the true sign of a nation’s political maturity.
IX. The Responsibility of Overseas Chinese: Not Merely Leaving, but Remembering
For Chinese people living overseas, leaving a familiar environment may mean gaining a new life. But freedom should never be merely a matter of personal good fortune. Living in a society where we can freely read, freely discuss, and freely criticize the government, we ought to understand all the more that these rights did not fall from the sky. They stem from the struggles of countless individuals and the oversight of power across generations. Therefore, the responsibility of overseas Chinese is not merely to live their own lives well.
We can hold different political views, choose different courses of action, and even maintain different judgments about the future. But at the very least, we should not forget: in this world, there are still many people who are suppressed for expressing their views, who lose their freedom for persisting in their beliefs, and who are forced to leave their homelands for pursuing democracy and human rights. Perhaps herein lies the significance of being overseas.
When a person breaks free from fear, they gain the opportunity to relearn how to think freely. And when more and more people are willing to think independently, discuss openly, and respect views different from their own, the seeds of freedom will not easily vanish.
Conclusion: Do Not Let Fear Become Our Master
Twenty-five years ago, terrorists flew airplanes into one of New York’s most symbolic structures. What they attempted to destroy was not merely steel and concrete, but humanity’s confidence in security and the future.
Twenty-five years later, as we look back on “9/11” once more, we should also ask ourselves: in the face of fear, are we willing to surrender freedom? In the face of tyrannical power, do we still dare to raise questions? In the face of injustice, are we willing to keep speaking out?
History teaches us that any freedom can be lost. When people give up speaking out due to fear, when society rejects dissenting opinions for the sake of so-called “stability,” and when power is no longer subject to oversight, freedom disappears bit by bit. This is precisely why we need the media, independent thought, civil society, and above all, the presence of different political forces.
Being “in opposition” is not meant to create division, but to prevent power from losing checks and balances. Opposition is not equivalent to hatred, nor does criticism signify betrayal.
The true future of a country does not belong to those who demand that the people remain forever silent; it belongs to those who, even under pressure, still believe in freedom, uphold the truth, and safeguard human dignity.
Commemorating “9/11” is to remember the deceased. It is also to remind the living: do not hand over freedom out of fear, do not abandon thinking in the face of power, and do not lose faith in democracy because reality is difficult. For everyone who still cares about China’s future, this perhaps is the very meaning of continuing to speak out, to think, and to persevere. For freedom does not arrive automatically. Nor does democracy fall from the sky. It requires people to remember it, to spread it, and to strive for it.
And this, perhaps, is the true meaning of being “in opposition.”
Editor: Hu Jing Proofreader: Zhou Min Translator: Ge Bing
When “Security” Becomes the Justification for Power
—Reflecting on Freedom and Totalitarianism on the 25th Anniversary of the “9/11” Terrorist Attacks
By Jia Jia
Abstract: Commemorating the September 11 terrorist attacks allows us to reflect on today’s world—particularly China—and how, while fighting terrorism, to limit the unchecked expansion and abuse of public power that erodes individual freedom. When individual freedom is severely eroded, it is precisely when a new form of totalitarianism emerges. The purpose of the state’s existence is to protect individual freedom, not to restrict it.
On September 11, 2001, the world changed.
On that day, the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York, USA, collapsed in a terrorist attack, and nearly three thousand vibrant human lives vanished instantly. The raging flames, billowing smoke, and images of people fleeing in panic were broadcast around the globe via television signals.
Twenty-five years have passed, yet people still cannot forget that morning.
Commemorating “9/11” is, first and foremost, to remember those innocent victims. But if commemoration remains confined to flowers, tears, and slogans, then the lessons history has taught us may be forgotten.
In the aftermath of “9/11,” what the world faced was not merely terrorism, but a more complex and profound question: When a society continuously pursues security out of fear, how much freedom are we truly willing to sacrifice for that security?
This is a problem that belongs to the United States, it is a problem that belongs to China, and it is even more so a problem that belongs to everyone living in modern political systems.
I. Terrorism Manufactures Fear; Power May Utilize Fear
The most direct goal of terrorism is to cause death, but its deeper purpose is to manufacture fear. Fear can alter human behavior.
A person afraid of war may be willing to accept greater military control; a person afraid of crime may be willing to accept ubiquitous surveillance; a person afraid of social unrest may even be willing to surrender the right to express an opinion.
Thus, “security” becomes one of the reasons by which political power most easily gains legitimacy. “For national security.” “For social stability.” “To prevent sabotage by hostile forces.” We are all too familiar with these phrases.
The problem lies in this: when “security” becomes an infinitely elastic concept, what exactly is left that cannot be subsumed under its scope? Does a person who criticizes the government threaten national security? Does a person who demands freedom of the press undermine social stability? Does a person who persists in an independent religious faith belong to a “dangerous organization”? Does a person who refuses to keep silent constitute a so-called “hostile force”?
Under a democratic system, these issues can at least be publicly debated, and can be constrained through the law, the media, and societal oversight. Yet in a system that lacks checks on power, “national security” can become an infinitely extending hand. It can reach into the media, reach into schools, reach into places of worship, reach into the internet, and even reach into the private lives of every ordinary individual.
In the end, people discover that while they may have gained a society that appears “stable,” they have lost a society in which they can breathe freely.
II. What Is Truly Terrifying Is Not Merely Terrorism, but Unlimited Power “in the Name of Security”
In the aftermath of “9/11,” the United States also expanded government power in the name of counterterrorism. Airport security checkpoints became stricter, intelligence agencies were granted more resources, and the government strengthened its counterterrorism framework. Simultaneously, fierce debate erupted within American society: how far, exactly, can the government go for the sake of counterterrorism? To this day, these debates endure.
Yet it is precisely this debate itself that embodies the key value of a free society. The government is not always correct, the president is not always correct, the intelligence agencies are not always correct, and even the so-called “national interest” is by no means immune to challenge.
The most precious aspect of a democratic society is not that it never makes mistakes, but that it allows people to point those mistakes out: the media can investigate the government, lawyers can challenge the government, the courts can limit the government, ordinary citizens can criticize the government, and voters can change the government through the ballot box. This means that any power exercised under the rationale of “security” must submit to scrutiny.
However, in a society where power is highly concentrated, the situation can be entirely different. There, no genuinely independent news media exists, no judicial system free from political interference exists, and a civil society capable of operating freely is lacking. Consequently, “security” ceases to be a tool for protecting the people and instead gradually turns into a tool for controlling the people.
If a government does not allow the people to criticize it, yet constantly demands that the people trust it; if it does not allow society to exercise oversight over it, yet demands that society yield absolute obedience to it; if it regards differing opinions as threats, then what it truly fears may not be “danger,” but rather the people possessing the capacity for independent thought.
III. Whose “Stability” Is It, After All?
In the Chinese political discourse, “stability” is a repeatedly emphasized term. No one opposes stability. No one desires war, violence, or social chaos. However, we must press the question: what does stability actually signify?
If a society experiences no public protest, is it because everyone is satisfied? Or is it because people know that expressing dissatisfaction can carry a heavy price? If a country’s media sings praises of prosperity every day, is it because no problems exist? Or is it because those who report on problems cannot speak out freely? If people do not discuss politics in public spaces, is it because they do not care about the country’s future? Or is it because they know that certain things must not be said?
Superficial quietness in a society does not necessarily represent true peace. Silence, too, is not equivalent to consent. Throughout history, many regimes that appeared “stable” accumulated immense underlying contradictions beneath the surface. Due to the lack of open expression and institutional channels for resolution, problems could neither be identified in time nor resolved in time. In the end, when the pressure breaks through the critical threshold, so-called stability can crumble overnight.
A genuinely healthy society is not one devoid of voices, but one that allows all kinds of voices to exist. Truly solid stability is likewise not built on fear and suppression, but founded upon fairness, the rule of law, respect, and civil rights.
IV. What Totalitarianism Fears Most May Not Be Enemies, but Free Individuals
A truly free person will think, will doubt, will raise questions, and will demand that power account for its actions. Therefore, any power seeking to achieve total control must inevitably remain vigilant against independent individuals. It wants people to accept only one voice, wants the media to disseminate only one narrative, wants schools to teach only one history, and wants the populace to practice only one form of patriotism. When a country can tolerate only one correct ideology, thought itself has, in truth, already died.
A healthy country should not fear dissenting opinions. On the contrary, dissenting opinions can help a country uncover its own flaws. Criticism is not equivalent to betrayal; opposing the government is not equivalent to opposing the nation; demanding democracy is not equivalent to undermining stability; and defending human rights should be deemed a hostile act least of all.
The nation belongs to the people, not to any single political party. The government should serve the people, rather than demand unconditional obedience from them.
A piece of common sense that appears so self-evident still constantly needs to be popularized in many countries.
V. After 9/11, We Ought to Treasure Freedom All the More
Twenty-five years have elapsed, yet the world has not grown any safer. Wars persist, extremism persists, and new conflicts continually surface.
At the same time, new technologies such as artificial intelligence, big data, facial recognition, and digital surveillance have granted governments unprecedented capacity for social control.
Technology itself possesses neither good nor evil. The question lies in: who holds the technology? Who oversees those who hold the technology? Lacking checks on power, technology originally intended to protect society can just as easily turn into a tool for monitoring society.
Where a person went, whom they met, what they said, what they read, or even what political views they expressed can all be recorded, analyzed, and stored. When a society gradually grows accustomed to being “watched,” it may eventually forget what true private space is. When people begin to self-censor out of fear of repercussions, power no longer even needs to explicitly prohibit anything. For fear has already entered everyone’s heart. This is perhaps one of the dangers in modern society most worthy of vigilance.
VI. Commemorating 9/11 Is to Refuse to Let Fear Govern Our Lives
“9/11” was a catastrophe engineered by terrorism. However, if twenty-five years later we still fail to grasp the relationship between fear and power, then our commemoration of this tragedy remains far from complete.
Terrorism attempts to strip away people’s sense of security through violence. At the same time, any unchecked power may exploit this insecurity to induce people to voluntarily surrender their freedom. Therefore, we must remain vigilant at all times. In the face of terrorism, we certainly require security. In the face of war and crime, we certainly require order. However, security cannot become a blank check for unlimited power, stability cannot become a pretext for suppressing freedom, and national interests cannot become an excuse for violating human rights.
Any government, no matter how noble its slogans may be, must be subject to oversight. Any power, no matter what name it assumes, must have boundaries. For history has told us time and again: when the people completely abandon freedom for the sake of security, they may ultimately lose both freedom and fail to truly attain security.
Today, twenty-five years later, when we commemorate “9/11” once more, we do so not only to remember the innocent lives that were lost, but also to honor the courage demonstrated by humanity in the face of disaster.
More importantly, we ought to reaffirm a simple yet firm conviction: fear cannot become a justification for enslaving freedom. Stability cannot become an excuse for stripping away rights. The state cannot stand above the people, and power can least of all stand above the law.
A genuinely powerful country does not make its people fear its government. Rather, it makes its people trust that: even when facing danger, they still retain the right to speak; even when criticizing the government, they remain protected by the law; even when confronting tyrannical power, they need not relinquish their dignity as human beings.
This, perhaps, is the most vital political insight that “9/11” leaves behind for the twenty-first century.
May the deceased rest in peace. May fear no longer serve as a pretext for the expansion of power. May freedom and dignity never be forgotten in humanity’s pursuit of security.
VII. For Chinese People, “Freedom” Has Never Been a Distant Topic
Today, as we commemorate “9/11” in the United States, for many overseas individuals from China, the discussion concerning freedom, security, and power sparked by this catastrophe is by no means a distant political topic. For we once lived in a society that placed “stability” in a position of paramount importance.
We understand the importance of order, and we understand the significance of national security. Yet precisely because of this, we ought to be all the more vigilant: when “security” and “stability” become unquestionable political shorthand, how much room actually remains for the freedom of ordinary people?
A state can be powerful, but power cannot serve as a reason to refuse oversight. A government can emphasize security, but security should not serve as a pretext to restrict freedom. A political party can govern for a long term, but long-term governance does not imply being forever in the right. Genuine national identity should not be built upon unconditional obedience to any single political party.
China belongs to the Chinese people; it is not the private property of any political group. Loving one’s country does not mean one must praise every government policy. Criticizing the ruling authorities does not equal betraying the nation. Demanding democracy, freedom, human rights, and the rule of law is by no means a conspiracy by so-called “hostile forces.” On the contrary, a person who truly cares about China’s future should possess the courage to face reality, point out problems, and strive to change them.
VIII. The Significance of Being “In Opposition”: Allowing Different Voices to Persist
The existence of Opposition Party magazine is itself a voice. Being “in opposition” does not mean opposing merely for the sake of opposition, much less generating hatred.
Genuine opposition means that outside mainstream power, there remain people willing to think, question, and speak out. When one voice attempts to monopolize truth, the voice of the opposition reminds people: truth should not be monopolized by power. When criticism is deemed dangerous, the voice of the opposition reminds people: criticism is an indispensable force for social progress. When people are required to remain silent, the voice of the opposition tells people: silence is not the only choice. The reason a democratic society can maintain its vitality is precisely that it permits opposition. There are those who govern, and there are those who oppose; there are majority opinions, and there are minority voices; there is power, and there is oversight.
There is no government that is forever right, nor is there power that needs no supervision. A genuinely mature state should not fear opposition. On the contrary, daring to allow different political forces to compete openly is the true sign of a nation’s political maturity.
IX. The Responsibility of Overseas Chinese: Not Merely Leaving, but Remembering
For Chinese people living overseas, leaving a familiar environment may mean gaining a new life. But freedom should never be merely a matter of personal good fortune. Living in a society where we can freely read, freely discuss, and freely criticize the government, we ought to understand all the more that these rights did not fall from the sky. They stem from the struggles of countless individuals and the oversight of power across generations. Therefore, the responsibility of overseas Chinese is not merely to live their own lives well.
We can hold different political views, choose different courses of action, and even maintain different judgments about the future. But at the very least, we should not forget: in this world, there are still many people who are suppressed for expressing their views, who lose their freedom for persisting in their beliefs, and who are forced to leave their homelands for pursuing democracy and human rights. Perhaps herein lies the significance of being overseas.
When a person breaks free from fear, they gain the opportunity to relearn how to think freely. And when more and more people are willing to think independently, discuss openly, and respect views different from their own, the seeds of freedom will not easily vanish.
Conclusion: Do Not Let Fear Become Our Master
Twenty-five years ago, terrorists flew airplanes into one of New York’s most symbolic structures. What they attempted to destroy was not merely steel and concrete, but humanity’s confidence in security and the future.
Twenty-five years later, as we look back on “9/11” once more, we should also ask ourselves: in the face of fear, are we willing to surrender freedom? In the face of tyrannical power, do we still dare to raise questions? In the face of injustice, are we willing to keep speaking out?
History teaches us that any freedom can be lost. When people give up speaking out due to fear, when society rejects dissenting opinions for the sake of so-called “stability,” and when power is no longer subject to oversight, freedom disappears bit by bit. This is precisely why we need the media, independent thought, civil society, and above all, the presence of different political forces.
Being “in opposition” is not meant to create division, but to prevent power from losing checks and balances. Opposition is not equivalent to hatred, nor does criticism signify betrayal.
The true future of a country does not belong to those who demand that the people remain forever silent; it belongs to those who, even under pressure, still believe in freedom, uphold the truth, and safeguard human dignity.
Commemorating “9/11” is to remember the deceased. It is also to remind the living: do not hand over freedom out of fear, do not abandon thinking in the face of power, and do not lose faith in democracy because reality is difficult. For everyone who still cares about China’s future, this perhaps is the very meaning of continuing to speak out, to think, and to persevere. For freedom does not arrive automatically. Nor does democracy fall from the sky. It requires people to remember it, to spread it, and to strive for it.
And this, perhaps, is the true meaning of being “in opposition.”
Editor: Hu Jing Proofreader: Zhou Min Translator: Ge Bing
60-Year-Old Mandatory Mobilization: Why Should 1.4 Billion People Foot the Bill for a Dictator’s War Machine?
Author: Jiang Junliang
Abstract: The National Defense Mobilization Law expands mobilization, subjecting ordinary citizens to the scope of war mobilization while they lack support in areas such as employment and eldercare security. Calls for opposing mandatory mobilization and safeguarding individual rights.
In the reality of Chinese society, there exists an exceptionally glaring contrast: when you seek employment, go to work in a factory, or even register as a food delivery rider, society tells you: you are already 35 years old, you are too old, and we do not need you. However, when the newly passed National Defense Mobilization Law is set before us, the state tells you: even if you are already 60 years old, as long as we are going to war, you are still very young, and you must comply with mandatory mobilization.
Finding a job deems you too old at 35, yet using you as cannon fodder considers you just right at 60. This is the most chilling absurdity of this law.
Let us look at what kind of life an ordinary Chinese person in their fifties or sixties is currently experiencing: they may be anxious about the delayed retirement policy, and they may be worrying about meager pensions that even face potential deficits at any moment; they dare not go to the hospital when sick, and their life savings might be completely drained by a major illness or an unfinished property project. At the very moment when they are in direst need of state welfare as a safety net, and in direst need of medical and eldercare security, power tells them: “The state does not support lazy people; you must learn to overcome difficulties on your own.”
Yet, when Xi Jinping wants to achieve his own “historical merit” through a war, this 60-year-old elderly person, usually regarded as a societal burden, suddenly becomes a “precious war resource” locked down in black and white by state law.
The CCP defends itself by stating that what is written in the law is merely “national defense service,” not sending you directly to the front line with a gun. But what is common sense in modern warfare? Logistics supply lines and material transport lines are often the highest priority targets for enemy firepower strikes. Forcing a group of grey-haired fathers and 55-year-old mothers nearing retirement to move with the military and transport strategic supplies amidst intense shelling—this is not called national defense; this is called treating unarmed civilians as expendables.
Xi Jinping squanders the enormous taxes paid by the people and enjoys unsupervised privileges, only to ultimately demand that the people pay with their lives for the wars they might unleash. There is no such logic under heaven.
Our standing up today to oppose this law is not venting emotions, but defending the most fundamental bottom-line common sense: the life of an ordinary person is meant to accompany family and experience living, not to serve as sandbags filling the trench of the dictator Xi Jinping’s ambition. A truly strong nation enables its people to be free from fear, rather than using a single piece of legislation to bind all 1.4 billion people onto a war machine that could detonate at any moment. We reject mandatory mobilization, because our bodies belong only to ourselves, and are by no means Xi Jinping’s war machine.
Editor: Hu Lili Proofreader: Xiong Bian Translator: Ge Bing
Protests CCP Suppression of Hong Kong’s Democracy and Freedom
Author: Lyu Xiaojing
Abstract: On September 6, numerous pro-democracy activists gathered in San Francisco to voice support for Joshua Wong, asserting that the pursuit of democracy is no crime, while demanding the release of political prisoners and the safeguarding of freedom and democracy in Hong Kong.
On the afternoon of September 6, 2026, numerous pro-democracy activists gathered in front of the Consulate-General of the People’s Republic of China in San Francisco to hold a rally titled “Support Joshua Wong, the Pursuit of Democracy Is No Crime.” (Photos in this article provided by Guan Yongjie)
[San Francisco News] “Free Joshua Wong! Democracy Is Not a Crime!”
On the afternoon of September 6, shouts echoing support for Hong Kong’s democracy and freedom resounded once again in front of the PRC Consulate-General in San Francisco. The rally “TTT ACTION | Truth Action — Support Joshua Wong | Pursuit of Democracy Is No Crime,” joint-organized by the Democratic Party of China San Francisco Branch, the Chinese Democracy Education Foundation, Action Free Hong Kong Liberation (AHKF), and the US Hong Kongers Club, took place at this location.
Pro-democracy activists and human rights advocates hailing from Hong Kong, mainland China, and American society assembled before the consulate to express solidarity with Joshua Wong and individuals imprisoned for peaceful political expression, as well as to protest against the Chinese Communist Party’s suppression of Hong Kong’s freedom of speech, political participation, and civil society using legal tools such as the Law of the People’s Republic of China on Safeguarding National Security in the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region.
The event was co-hosted by Zheng Yun, Secretary-General of the Democratic Party of China San Francisco Branch, and Li Xiaolin, one of the founders of Action Free Hong Kong Liberation.
At the rally site, yellow umbrellas, a large-format portrait of Joshua Wong, and banners reading “DEMOCRACY IS NOT A CRIME” and “FREEDOM LIVES ON” were particularly conspicuous. Participants repeatedly chanted:
“Release Joshua Wong!” “The pursuit of democracy is no crime!” “Free Joshua Wong!” “Democracy Is Not a Crime!”
After the event commenced, participants lifted placards reading “VOICE—声音,” “FREEDOM—自由,” “JUSTICE—正义,” and “DEMOCRACY—民主” in sequence, before together holding up:
“DEMOCRACY IS NOT A CRIME | 追求民主无罪”
Participants silently faced the lens. Yet, the appeal expressed at this moment was exceptionally clear: when speaking out may become a crime, uttering a sound is in itself a refusal of fear; when democracy is deemed a threat, persisting in democracy is in itself a form of resistance.
At the rally site, Li Xiaolin read aloud a letter of solidarity sent by Lord David Alton, a member of the British House of Lords.
Lord Alton recalled having met Joshua Wong twice—once in the British Parliament and once in Hong Kong—and being deeply impressed by this young man’s steadfast belief in democracy and non-violence. Years later, however, what he has witnessed is Joshua Wong suffering repeated trials and imprisonments.
Lord Alton severely criticized the political persecution targeted at Joshua Wong and other democracy advocates, describing the relevant trials as a “travesty of justice.” He called upon the United Kingdom, the United States, and other democratic nations to stand alongside those fighting for freedom in Hong Kong and China.
In his letter, he explicitly stated: “We will not remain silent, nor will we ever forget everything they have done.”
A letter of solidarity sent across the Atlantic from the United Kingdom to San Francisco connected the protest in front of the consulate that day with the international community’s concern over the human rights situation in Hong Kong.
Jenny Shi, a member of the US Hong Kongers Club, insisted on attending the event despite carrying physical injuries that day.
She posed a sharp question to those present: “Today in the United States, we can publicly chant slogans and criticize the CCP, but can these words still be spoken freely in Hong Kong?”
She argued that Joshua Wong’s ordeal is no longer merely the personal fate of a single young man, but an epitome of the continuous suppression of Hong Kong’s democracy and freedom.
Jenny Shi passionately declared: “Authoritarianism can imprison Joshua Wong, but it cannot imprison freedom; tyranny can suppress voices, but it cannot eradicate the Hong Kong people’s belief in the pursuit of democracy!”
Guan Yongjie, one of the event organizers, spoke regarding the controversy that arose after Joshua Wong pleaded guilty.
He expressed that one must not deny the price Joshua Wong paid for Hong Kong’s democracy and freedom over many past years simply because a pro-democracy figure, long trapped in prison and subjected to immense pressure, made the choice to plead guilty.
Addressing comments online by certain “Little Pinks” who attacked, ridiculed, or even smeared Joshua Wong, Guan Yongjie called on people not to inflict secondary injury upon a person who has already suffered persecution.
He questioned: “When a young man has lost his freedom for a long time, facing the threat of a powerful state machine and a lengthy prison term, what qualification do we have, standing outside the wall, to harshly criticize him for why he pleaded guilty?”
In his view, what truly ought to be questioned is not why an incarcerated person fails to become the ‘perfect hero’ of people’s imagination, but rather what kind of system forces a young man to pay with his youth and freedom simply for pursuing democracy.
Liu Wuping, a member of the Democratic Party of China, referred to Joshua Wong as “a vanguard of Hong Kong’s Revolution of Our Times, and a banner for anti-communist Chinese around the globe.”
He passionately stated: “Though one Joshua Wong is in prison, thousands upon thousands of Joshua Wongs are in Hong Kong, in mainland China, and across the entire world!”
Liu Wuping demanded that the Hong Kong authorities cease their suppression of pro-democracy figures, and called for the release of Jimmy Lai, Lee Cheuk-yan, Chow Hang-tung, Joshua Wong, and others. He maintained that the demands for democracy and freedom represented by the June 4th Democratic Movement 37 years ago have not vanished with the crackdown; a regime may suppress a movement, but it can never forever extinguish a nation’s longing for freedom.
Keiko, who hails from Hong Kong and currently resides in the United States, expressed that she had been implicated during the 2019 “Anti-Extradition Law Amendment Bill” movement due to her stance and related actions. Consequently, seeing Joshua Wong face severe sentencing once again under a case involving the Law of the People’s Republic of China on Safeguarding National Security in the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region made her feel an exceptionally heavy heart.
She said: “Pursuing democracy is not a crime, and speaking the truth is not a crime.”
Keiko stated that those living overseas must least of all remain silent out of fear. “If every single person chooses silence, it becomes even harder for the truth to be seen by the world.” She concluded by shouting: “Stand with Joshua Wong! Democracy is not a crime! Freedom lives on!”
Guo Zhijun, Director of the Activity Department of the Democratic Party of China San Francisco Branch and one of the originators of “One Person One Tweet for Prisoners of Conscience,” stated that voicing support for Joshua Wong is also voicing support for all individuals persecuted for pursuing democracy and freedom.
He emphasized: “Democracy is no crime! Freedom is no crime! Fighting for one’s rights is least of all a crime!” Guo Zhijun maintained that those who truly ought to be questioned are not the people demanding freedom, democracy, and human rights, but rather why a regime must rely on prisons, fear, and the state machine to suppress the people’s right to express dissenting opinions.
Liu Jingtao, a member of the Democratic Party of China, stated that the event held that day was part of the “TTT Truth Action” series. He admitted that while in China in the past, he lacked the courage shown by pro-democracy figures such as Jimmy Lai, Joshua Wong, Chow Hang-tung, and Lee Cheuk-yan in directly confronting totalitarian power. However, upon arriving in the free world, past fear could no longer serve as a justification for today’s silence.
He said: “Since we possess the freedom to speak out, we have a responsibility to keep speaking on behalf of those who have lost their freedom!” Liu Jingtao expressed the commitment to continue spreading the truth, exposing lies, and speaking up for China’s democratic transition.
“We will not forget, nor will we give up! Only by ending the one-party dictatorship can China have a genuine future!”
Lyu Xiaojing, Vice Director of the Fremont Branch of the Democratic Party of China, directed her criticism straight at the reality of “One Country, Two Systems” in Hong Kong.
She stated that since the implementation of the Law of the People’s Republic of China on Safeguarding National Security in the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region in 2020, Hong Kong’s pro-democracy figures have faced arrests and prosecutions, while political organizations and civic groups have disbanded one after another, leading to the continuous shrinkage of political and civic space. She passionately declared:
“‘One Country, Two Systems’ exists in name only! What the CCP has deceived is not only the people of Hong Kong, but also the international community!” She maintained that Joshua Wong’s imprisonment is not merely the ordeal of one individual, but an epitome of the continuous shrinkage of Hong Kong’s space for freedom and the hollowing-out of the “One Country, Two Systems” promise.
“Totalitarian power can hollow out ‘One Country, Two Systems,’ but it cannot eradicate the Hong Kong people’s belief in the pursuit of freedom!”
Li Shuqing, Deputy Director of the Organization Department of the Democratic Party of China, strongly protested the CCP’s suppression of Hong Kong’s democracy and freedom in the name of so-called “national security.”
He questioned: “When striving for democracy can be criminalized, when peaceful expression can become incriminating evidence, and when a young man loses years of his life for pursuing freedom—who on earth is truly destroying Hong Kong?”
Li Shuqing stated that what truly ought to be defended is not a regime’s unchecked, absolute power, but the people’s freedom, dignity, and right to choose their own future. He passionately declared: “We oppose the one-party dictatorship, we oppose the suppression of dissent in the name of ‘national security,’ and we oppose using prisons and fear to gag the people! Freedom will not disappear because of crackdowns, nor will democracy perish because of trials!”
Li Kai, a member of the Democratic Party of China, stated that voicing support for Joshua Wong today is “not merely voicing support for one person, but even more so rejecting a manufactured climate of fear and silence.” He mentioned the ordeals of Jimmy Lai, Chow Hang-tung, Lee Cheuk-yan, Joshua Wong, and others, expressing:
“The most terrifying thing for a society is not merely that individuals are locked up in prison, but that more and more people, driven by fear, no longer dare to speak the truth.” Li Kai maintained that those living overseas who still possess the freedom of expression should all the more continue speaking on behalf of those who are temporarily unable to speak out freely.
“Fear can silence people for a time, but it cannot make the truth disappear!”
Wang Feng, a member of the Democratic Party of China, posed a question at the site: “Why are we standing here today?” His answer was: “Because certain voices must not be silenced, and certain freedoms must not be given up!” Wang Feng stated that Joshua Wong has been subjected to suppression under the Law of the People’s Republic of China on Safeguarding National Security in the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region for pursuing democracy, freedom, and human rights. He maintained that prison can restrict a person’s physical body, yet it cannot imprison the belief in freedom.
“Dictatorship can manufacture fear, but it cannot make everyone silent!”
At the rally site, pro-democracy activist Chang Guodong delivered a passionate speech in English. He stated that Joshua Wong did not use violence, but instead sought democracy through speaking out, organizing, and political participation, only to face prosecution and imprisonment time and again as a result.
He declared bluntly: “This is not justice; this is outright political repression!” Chang Guodong maintained that when a regime turns peaceful expression into a crime and weaponizes the National Security Law to suppress dissent, what it defends is no longer the safety of the people, but authoritarian power itself. He then passionately proclaimed:
“You can imprison a person, but you cannot imprison an idea; you can shut down news media, but you cannot block the truth; you can arrest protesters, but you cannot strangle the people’s longing for freedom!” He called upon the international community to refuse silence and demanded the immediate release of Joshua Wong and all individuals imprisoned for peaceful expression.
At the rally site, the organizers put forward three demands to the CCP, the Hong Kong authorities, and the international community:
First: Immediately release Joshua Wong and all individuals imprisoned for peaceful political expression; Second: Cease using legal tools such as the Law of the People’s Republic of China on Safeguarding National Security in the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region to suppress peaceful speech, political participation, and civil society; Third: Safeguard the Hong Kong people’s rightful freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, human rights, and democratic rights.
From Hong Kong to San Francisco, from those trapped behind bars to those still able to stand on free soil and speak out, this rally ultimately pointed to a deeper question: if peaceful expression can become a crime, and if the pursuit of democracy comes at the cost of one’s youth and freedom, then who is truly being put on trial—Joshua Wong, or the freedom Hong Kong once possessed?
The CCP can use the National Security Law to create a chilling effect, use prisons to isolate a person’s voice, and use a powerful state machine in an attempt to silence dissenters; yet it cannot command people to forget, nor can it erase the longing for freedom, dignity, and democracy from human hearts.
Before the rally concluded, shouts echoed across the site once again:
“Joshua Wong is innocent!” “Release Joshua Wong!” “The pursuit of democracy is no crime!” “Oppose authoritarian tyranny!”
Editor: Zhong Ran Proofreader: Xiong Bian Translator: Ge Bing
