By Wang Lianjiang Chief Editor: Lu Huiwen Translator: Lu Huiwen
I am Wang Lianjiang, a member of the China Democracy Party. On May 31, 2025, at Liberty Sculpture Park, I participated in a vigil commemorating the Tiananmen Massacre.
Here, I call upon all conscientious Chinese citizens: Do not be the screws that hold up the Chinese Communist Party. Withdraw from the CCP, Withdraw from the People’s Liberation Army, Withdraw from the civil service, Withdraw from the police, Withdraw from urban management forces!
Let us stand on the side of the people, Let us stand on the side of freedom and justice.
(By Zhang Xinggui, Member of the China Democracy Party)
Edited by Hu Lili | Chief Editors: Luo Zhifei, Lu Huiwen | Translated by Lu Huiwen
Throughout history, the term “Hanjian”—traitor to the Han people—has carried deep shame and pain. It has referred to those who betrayed the nation and colluded with foreign enemies. But is this definition truly comprehensive? Does it reflect who actually causes the greatest harm to the nation? When we look back at history, especially during times of suffering and turmoil, we find that many of those labeled as “traitors” were merely trying to survive, protect their families, or prevent greater disasters. Meanwhile, those who held immense power often, even in times of peace and with full control over resources, ignored the people’s hardships, exploited the masses, and sold out national interests.
So, I propose a new standard of judgment: the real traitors are not those who, in chaotic times, collaborated with foreign regimes for survival, but those rulers who betray their people and disregard their well-being.
Traditionally, the label “Hanjian” has been applied to Han Chinese individuals who sided with enemy forces during national crises, placing personal gain above the greater good of the nation. They were condemned by history and became the target of universal scorn. Yet reality is often more complex than labels. Many so-called traitors were in fact ordinary people stripped of rights, local gentry forced to compromise to prevent greater harm, or reformers who dared to introduce advanced systems. Their choices may not have been noble, but they were not necessarily shameful. Their motives were often not betrayal, but the pursuit of a sliver of survival.
In contrast, those who sat in palaces of power—holding national resources and the reins of decision-making—yet still turned a blind eye to the people’s needs and trampled justice during peaceful times, are the ones we must truly be wary of. They were entrusted to protect the people’s welfare, yet betrayed that trust at crucial moments—even selling out the country’s interests. Cloaked in patriotic rhetoric, they engaged in acts that harmed the nation and its people. They proclaimed loyalty to the nation, but their corruption, repression, and incompetence dragged the country into decline. These individuals may not have openly joined foreign enemies, but their erosion of national foundations and betrayal of the public interest is more disgraceful than those who compromised to survive. They are the ones who truly bring shame to the nation and suffering to the people.
In the late Qing dynasty, some high officials, facing foreign invasions, scrambled to cede territory and pay reparations in exchange for temporary peace, just to preserve their own positions and wealth. How is this any different from directly siding with invaders? In more recent times, some rulers have chanted slogans of enriching the nation and empowering the people, while secretly exploiting the public, driving citizens into hardship. They turn basic needs—housing, healthcare, pensions, food safety—into profit machines for the elite. These officials who abuse power and ignore public welfare may not have colluded with foreign enemies, but their actions corrode the nation from within and injure the people profoundly. They intensify social injustice, erode public trust—is that not also a form of betrayal?
True traitors don’t need to raise a white flag to surrender—they may hide behind high walls, using power and selfishness to consume the nation’s hope. They control fiscal resources, monopolize public benefits, and deepen the burden on ordinary people, fueling social fragmentation. This internal harm is sometimes more destructive than foreign invasion. They impose harsh rule at home while making generous concessions abroad, all for empty diplomatic clout—yet it’s always the silent taxpayers who suffer. This kind of self-serving governance is a betrayal of national duty. They may not hold foreign passports, but they have long since betrayed their own people. Are such rulers not even more contemptible traitors?
A real “Hanjian” is not defined by whether they cooperated with foreign enemies, but by whether they betrayed their people and violated the fundamental interests of the nation. Those ordinary people surviving in the margins, those who compromised out of pressure—are not criminals. A person who yields to survive may have his reasons. One who invites foreign resources for development may have vision. But those in high positions, entrusted with public duty, who abandon that duty and ignore the people’s needs, have no excuse. Their betrayal is inexcusable. They are the true traitors worthy of public contempt.
We must be vigilant of such traitors. More importantly, we must use our eyes to discern them, our voices to condemn them, and our actions to resist them. As ordinary citizens, we may lack overwhelming power, but we possess conscience—and responsibility. Every time we stand up, even if it’s just sharing a piece of truth, supporting a media outlet, or joining in public accountability—we are already dismantling the wall of silence that these traitors depend on. Only then can we ensure that those who betray the people have nowhere to hide.
If there is another life, I don’t want— I don’t want to keep my eyes shut in the dark, Don’t want to learn to speak within high walls, Don’t want to be taught to forget through books, Don’t want to learn to live Obediently and humbly amid lies.
I don’t want to see again— Books turning to ashes in flames, Thoughts torn to shreds behind bars, People dancing in shackles inside the wall, Yet never hearing the wind from beyond it.
If there is another life, Let me bathe in the sunlight of freedom. Let truth, like a rushing wind, Shatter every sealed door and window. I would choose the harder road— To no longer feign sleep, no longer bow, No longer sing hymns over ruins.
If there is another life, Let no bubbles obscure the bloodstained truth. Let history openly recall every scar. Let every lost name Be softly spoken by someone.
— Wang Chengguo Written in Los Angeles, July 20, 2025
Edited by Wang Mengmeng Chief Editors: Luo Zhifei, Lu Huiwen Translated by Lu Huiwen
In Memory of Liu Xiaobo on the Eighth Anniversary of His Passing
By Jin Mi
Edited by Wang Mengmeng | Chief Editors: Luo Zhifei, Lu Huiwen | Translated by Lu Huiwen
He died too quietly, like an old-fashioned gentleman who already knew the ending—his shirt buttoned, his handwriting neat, then slowly closed his eyes and returned his life to this world.
He disturbed no one, stained no sheets, left behind no excess words.
His death mirrored his life: restrained, gentle, clean—so clean it bordered on cruelty.
It wasn’t him who was cruel. It was the world that feared his purity.
He had no enemies, yet many treated him as one.
They refused to release him, saying he was ill, but the truth is—they feared him alive.
Feared that every inch of his emaciated body spelled defiance.
Feared that even his cough would shake the characters on the page.
Feared that a man with no power and no privilege had more reason to exist than they did.
They said he died of cancer. But the sea knows—it wasn’t illness, it was depletion.
He burned through his life, burned it so fiercely it made others blush—yet left them helpless.
He couldn’t see the sea before he died; only his ashes were scattered into it afterward.
The sea remembers no one. As the tide rises and falls, each drop forgets the last.
But we remember.
His ashes are like a banned poem, unable to find a resting place,
forever drifting at the margins of the nation.
He is gone, and those people breathed a sigh of relief.
But they forgot—
A body reduced to ashes weighs more than words left unsaid.
Los Angeles Roars Again: Support for Fang Yirong, Civic Resistance Unceasing
— Report on the 748th “Jasmine Action”
By: Li Congling
Editor: Luo Zhifei Chief Editor: Lu Huiwen Translation: Lu Huiwen
[Los Angeles] — At precisely 4:00 p.m. on July 26, 2025, the 748th “Jasmine Action” was held as scheduled in front of the Chinese Consulate General in Los Angeles. Centered on the theme “Support Fang Yirong,” the rally was organized by the China Democracy Party National Committee, with Cheng Ming and Lin Yangzheng serving as co-hosts. The event drew numerous participants concerned with the future of human rights, democracy, and rule of law in China.
This gathering aimed to support Chinese dissidents Fang Yirong and Peng Lifa, both of whom were arrested and detained for expressing dissatisfaction with the Chinese government and calling for constitutional democracy. Their whereabouts remain unknown, and they have reportedly been subjected to long-term secret detention.
Peng Lifa, known as the “Bridge Man,” shocked the world in October 2022 when he unfurled a banner on Beijing’s Sitong Bridge protesting Xi Jinping’s reappointment. His slogans included: “We want food, not COVID tests; we want freedom, not lockdowns.” Three years later, it is reported that Peng has been secretly sentenced to nine years in prison. His place of detention and health condition remain unclear.
On July 30, 2024, Fang Yirong hung a large white banner with red characters from a pedestrian bridge in Xinhua County. The message, adapted from Peng Lifa’s slogans, read:
“We want equality, not privilege; we want reform, not a Cultural Revolution; we want freedom, not lockdowns; we want votes, not a supreme leader; we want dignity, not lies. We will not be slaves, but citizens.”
He also broadcast slogans through a loudspeaker: “We want freedom, democracy, and votes! Boycott classes, boycott work, recall the traitorous dictator Xi Jinping!”
As a rare public protester in recent years, Fang bravely took to the streets to challenge authoritarian rule and was eventually subjected to secret interrogation and detention.
In his opening speech, host Cheng Ming said, “Fang Yirong used his own flesh and blood to confront lies and tyranny. He is our role model, and a symbol of hope that our nation’s spirit is not yet extinguished.”
The speeches then began in a solemn and respectful atmosphere. Speakers included Yang Hao, Ma Qun, Zhang Donghao, Ni Shicheng, and Liu Ao. They passionately condemned the CCP’s ongoing suppression of free speech and civic rights, and called on the international community to pay attention to the persecution of Fang Yirong and other activists such as Peng Lifa.
Following the speeches, participants sang a song in memory of Peng Lifa, showing solidarity with this unyielding citizen. Attendees then unfurled banners and marched peacefully around the entrance of the Chinese Consulate General in Los Angeles, chanting slogans such as “Be citizens, not slaves!”, “Free prisoners of conscience!”, “Down with the CCP tyranny!”, and “End CCP!” The chants drew attention from passersby—some stopped to take photos, others gave thumbs-up in support.
The organizing body, the China Democracy Party National Committee, stated that the 748th Jasmine Action was both a tribute to the “Bridge Warriors” and a defense of the spirit of Chinese civil society. In the face of tightening speech control and authoritarian expansion, only the free lands overseas can serve as sanctuaries for preserving the flame of democracy.
“We will not stop,” said co-host Lin Yangzheng, “even if it’s only once a week, even if there are only a few people, we will keep standing up, speaking out for them, and paving the way for the future.”
The event concluded peacefully in the evening. Participants gradually dispersed, but the banners in their hands and the determination in their eyes cast long shadows under the blazing Los Angeles sun. From Sitong Bridge in Beijing to the consulate in Los Angeles, from lone resistance to collective outcry, these actions proclaim: even if the iron curtain still stands and the long night has yet to lift, those with conscience will not forget to cry out, and those with justice will not succumb to silence.
The Bridge Warriors are not alone — on the other side of the world, countless people are running the next leg of the relay.
Los Angeles, July 27 – Support Human Rights Lawyer Xie Yang
Event Theme: Supporting Human Rights Lawyer Xie Yang
Event Time: July 27, 2025, 12:00 PM – 3:00 PM
Event Location: Chinese Communist Consulate, Los Angeles
Organizer: Yuan Zegang Coordinator: Hua Zhaosong
After more than a dozen postponements, the case of Xie Yang is finally going to trial. The pretrial meeting is scheduled for July 28. As this is a case of persecution, the one on trial is innocent, and the ones conducting the trial are guilty. Whether it’s a pretrial meeting or a public hearing, each occasion serves a vital purpose: affirming the lawyers, praising the defendants, judging those in power, and placing the judiciary itself on trial.
In the criminal proceedings against the 709 lawyers, every single procedural step constitutes a massive revelation and condemnation of the CCP’s crimes.
Once a criminal case has entered the judicial process, they cannot avoid the stage of holding a public trial.
Igniting the Flame of Freedom Under the Iron Curtain
— An Exclusive Interview with Mao Qingxiang
Written by: Editorial Team of The Opposition Party – Lu Qiankun
Edited by: Feng Reng Chief Editor: Huiwen Lu Translator: Lu Huiwen
Introduction:What does it mean to run a magazine in a country where free publishing is banned?
Mao Qingxiang, a senior from Zhejiang, is perhaps one of the earliest practitioners of China’s contemporary “underground publishing” movement. From his political awakening during the April 5th Movement to three imprisonments in the 1990s, he has spent his life using a faint but unwavering voice to challenge authoritarian power. When he founded The Opposition Party magazine, China had yet to lift its ban on press freedom, and free speech was nonexistent. Yet, he stubbornly mimeographed magazines on the streets, organized writing groups, and even in prison, continued writing poems, conducting research, and defending his dignity—insisting on keeping a buzz cut instead of a shaved head.
In 2025, The Opposition Party was revived. Still in China, Mao Qingxiang was once again summonedby the police for “tea,” but he continued to speak with us in this interview, steadfastly guarding the flame of freedom that has long been lit.
Interview: Independent Will Under Tyranny
Reporter: Some speculate that you were behind this revival of The Opposition Party. What’s your take?
Mao Qingxiang: The local police station asked if I was the one behind it. I said: it has nothing to do with me. What the magazine said is actually a recognition of me—an honor. They’re putting me on a pedestal, but I don’t have such abilities. How could I operate anything from inside the country? You’re all watching me all the time… They’re collecting evidence against me, ready to arrest me anytime.
Reporter:When did your political awakening begin?
Mao Qingxiang: During the April 5th Movement. That was the first time Chinese people took to the streets against dictatorship and authoritarianism. I wrote a poem mourning Zhou Enlai. I didn’t go to Beijing, but in Hangzhou I helped organize protests, wrote big-character posters, gave speeches—the movement was strong.
Reporter: What was the original intention behind founding The Opposition Party magazine? And how did you come up with the name?
Mao Qingxiang: I named it. Three key words: oversight, opposition, checks and balances. At the time, we hoped China could truly transition to a multi-party system, not just have “flower vase parties.” We were not mouthpieces of the CCP. What we wanted was a platform to speak out—to let the people know they’re not alone. After publishing nine issues in China, I was imprisoned. Later, Nie Minzhi, Chen Shuqing, and Wang Rongqing took over and published two more issues—they were also arrested. That’s when it stopped.
Reporter: Was there anything during the magazine’s distribution that moved you deeply?
Mao Qingxiang: After the magazine was distributed, a reader came to me with bedding, books, and luggage, saying he wanted to join the Democracy Party and fight with us. I was very moved. He said: “I’ve seen thelight of freedom.” At that moment, I knew we were doing the right thing.
Reporter: We heard you were imprisoned three times. During your third sentence at Linping No. 2 Prison in Zhejiang, was there anything unforgettable?
Mao Qingxiang: When I first got in, they assigned me to do military machine tool work. I couldn’t finish the tasks, and the team leader threatened to “use methods.” During family visits, I would tell my wife everything. At the time, Voice of America and Radio Free Asia called her every month, and she would tell them I was being forced into labor. The police told her she was “spreading rumors.” She said: “Go investigate. If it’s false, I’ll take responsibility.” Eventually, our landline was dismantled, and I lost contact with the outside world.
Reporter: You didn’t give up studying in prison either?
Mao Qingxiang: Correct. I earned an associate degree in Chinese Language and Literature, and also a Level-3 cooking certificate. Every time I cooked, I got to eat my own food—what a treat. Once I refused to shave my head bald and argued that prison regulations called for humane haircuts. I paid the barber 10 yuan of my food allowance each time so he wouldn’t shave me bald. The squad leader wasn’t happy, but I used the human rights rule to argue my case. I stuck to it and prevailed.
Reporter: Did anyone try to persuade you to admit guilt in exchange for a reduced sentence?
Mao Qingxiang: In my sixth year in prison, the warden said I had over 200 merit points and could get a sentence reduction—if I confessed. I refused. I served the full eight-year sentence.
[Photo caption]
On July 16, 2025, Lü Gengsong (left) was just released from prison. His first visit was to see Zou Wei’s mother (center), accompanied by Mao Qingxiang (right).
Reporter: What is life like for you after release?
Mao Qingxiang: I’m living in Huzhou now. On July 17, I was detained at the police station for 24 hours. The state security police drove me to Hangzhou for interrogation. They won’t issue me a passport—I can’t leave the country. My WeChat and phone calls are all monitored. Holding people accountable retroactively is their usual tactic.
Reporter: Have you met with Lü Gengsong, who was just released?
Mao Qingxiang: Yes, I’ve met with my old comrade. He’s still recovering, since he’s been out of touch with society for so long. But I believe he’ll soon be communicating with everyone again.
Reporter: What do you think of The Opposition Party’s revival today?
Mao Qingxiang: It’s a great thing that you can revive it. I can’t do anything from inside the country now, but I’m happy that you can carry it on. I’ve never regretted founding The Opposition Party. As long as someone is still willing to speak out, the flame of freedom will not die.
Epilogue: The Opposition Spirit—An Unextinguished Flame
Mao Qingxiang once said, “I’m not a hero; I just speak on behalf of the common people.” This sentence encapsulates his decades of persistence. He never left China, yet has always lived under risk and surveillance. Though he cannot speak loudly, he responds to history’s call through his actions.
The revival of The Opposition Party is not only a commemoration but also a continuation of the “opposition spirit” into the future. This spirit means refusing to dance with power, always standing with the people, and using a glimmer of light to illuminate the darkness.
To this day, the ban on press freedom remains. We still cannot freely form political parties. But we can take the torch from our predecessors and continue to pass on the warmth of truth. The Opposition Party will not cease publication—even if every word comes at a price.
Because we believe: true opposition is not just a stance—it is a responsibility.
Appendix: Reflections Behind a Poem from the April 5th Movement
On April 5, 1976, during the nationwide mourning of Zhou Enlai and protests against Mao Zedong known as the April 5th Movement, Mao Qingxiang posted his first poem “Why Fear Evil Spirits Repeating Their Crimes” on the “Democracy Wall” near the Hangzhou Municipal Government:
Why Fear Evil Spirits Repeating Their Crimes
Qingming offerings mourn the fallen, how sorrowful the cry,
The heroic souls of martyrs shall never die.
The Premier’s image still before our eyes,
Storms and tempests again do rise.
The bright foundation laid by one so great,
Deeds of glory time cannot abate.
Today the brave take up the cause anew,
Why fear if evil spirits stir once more too?
This poem was later included on page 60 of Selected Poems of April 5th by China Youth Press. Over time, as more historical archives and memoirs emerged, Zhou Enlai’s dual-faced political role has become clearer. Mao Qingxiang often uses this poem to remind others how easily the search for truth can be obscured in historical fog.
