作者：陈树庆

编辑：冯仍

责任编辑：钟然

在法治社会，制定法律，建立权力制衡制度，保障人民监督权，目的是将权力这一猛兽关进牢笼，在充分发挥权力服务于社会的同时，有效防止滥用权力，确保这猛兽不能伤害民众的自由和权利。

把权力比作猛兽，把法律、制度和人民的监督权比作笼子的说法，早在2004年10月10日，美国总统布什在讨论国家安全与权力时，使用了“Power is a formidable, awesome beast”（权力是可怕、令人敬畏的野兽），在他随后的一次演讲中，更为精彩：“人类千万年的历史，最为珍贵的不是令人炫目的科技，不是浩瀚的大师们的经典著作，不是政客们天花乱坠的演讲，而是实现了对统治者的驯服，实现了把他们关进笼子里的梦想。因为只有驯服了他们，把他们关起来，才不会害人。我现在就站在笼子里向你们讲话。”

2013年1月22日，刚履新职不久的中共中央习近平总书记在第十八届中央纪律检查委员会第二次全体会议上有关反腐的讲话中，也提出要“把权力关进笼子”，随后的十几年来，无论习的讲话还是其他官方文件，“把权力关进笼子”一直在反复强调。实际效果如何呢？官方宣传与民间舆论众说纷纭，对我自己而言，亲身遭遇的感触与思考，才是最为深切的。

2025年12月25日上午9点刚过，我接到0571-87882793电话，电话那头是12月17日我在香积寺路58号拱墅区政务服务中心办理退休手续时，接待我的105室工作人员陈明朋，说他才知道我在12月4日已经向大关街道提交了办理退休的申请，而且他现在也已收到了我向杭州市拱墅区人力资源和社会保障局提出《政府信息公开申请书》，说我所要的材料已经准备好，他让我过去拿。我答应马上过去，在上午10点不到就赶到了他那里，拿了几份材料，其中有一份盖着“杭州市拱墅区社会保险管理服务中心”印章的《告知书》，一份制作日期是二〇一〇年九月三十日的《浙江省人力资源和社会保障厅文件-浙人社函[2010]358号-关于被判处有期徒刑人员基本养老保险有关问题的复函（此件依申请公开）》等。

看了这些材料，我既失望，又高兴。失望的是，《告知书》明确以“不符合政策”的原因，否定了我社保缴费24年4个月已经超出15年最低缴费要求可以领养老金的申请，只确认我“合法有效的职工基本养老保险实际缴费年限为9年10月”，看来我要现在就领养老金，难！高兴的是，《告知书》所依据的法律及政策明显适用不当或效力不足，为我接下来的维权铺开了伸展的余地。

本案的事实是，我陈树庆、家属、工作或社保挂靠的单位为我缴纳社会保险，从未遇到服刑期间不能缴费的明确告知，甚至2025年3月10日我最后一次刑满释放后，到拱墅区社保经办机构几次补缴中间断交的最近几年（包括部分刑期内的期间）社保费用也都顺利完成。社保经办机构在收取保险缴费的时候顺顺利利，现在要其履行保险责任的时候，突然变卦，以所谓“相关政策”为托词，拒不履行其应负的社会保险责任。由此可见，本案的争议焦点，首先集中在具体行政行为中，民众对于政府的信赖利益能否得到保护，说的通俗一点，就是政府是否可以随意违约？

不难发现，近几十年来，政府违约的案例屡屡见诸于舆论。如果政府可以随意违约，显然会让民众面对政府不能预期、无所适从，担心政府的权力会像野兽吞噬自己的权利。虽然每一个案子政府方对于自己“言而无信，约而不守”总是有一定的“理由”来说辞，但其“理由”必须经得起严格的法律限制，本案杭州市拱墅区社会保险经办机构拒绝为陈树庆现在办理领取养老金资格，所依托的“相关政策”是否也站得住脚呢？本文不妨展开初步的分析如下：

本案的法律关系由两项事实构成，第一项是缴纳社保，其中包括服刑期间缴纳的是否有效？陈树庆、就业单位等是缴费义务人，政府（社保经办机构和财税机构）是收费权利人；第二项是到了法定年龄领取养老金，陈树庆变成了领取权利人（受益人），政府变成了社会保险支付的义务人。该行为由于社会保险经办机构根据法定授权履行政府的社会保险管理与服务职责，既有具体行政行为的性质，又由于该行为的整个过程由民事主体陈树庆一方和行政主体社保经办机构一方共同完成，类似于民事法律行为的“合同”。如果社保经办机构主张第一项事实陈树庆一方缴纳10年6个月刑期间的社会保险无效成立，那么本案《告知书》上认为陈树庆只剩下9年10个月的有效缴费期也是确立的；如果陈树庆认为己方缴纳社保包括刑期内的都有效，本案《告知书》认定就是错误的，代表政府方的杭州市拱墅区社会保险管理服务中心应该立即替陈树庆办好退休手续并按时发放法定与约定的养老金。

现代法治社会是“对政府法无授权不可为，对民众是法无禁止即自由”，如果主张作为民众陈树庆一方缴纳刑期内社会保险费的行为无效，就必须指出其“法”之所“禁”。对此《中华人民共和国民法典》对于民事法律行为的效力问题，就有类似的规定，在《民法典》第一编“总则”的第六章第三节第一百五十三条规定“违反法律、行政法规的强制性规定的民事法律行为无效。……违背公序良俗的民事法律行为无效”，将“违反法律、行政法规的强制性规定”或“违背公序良俗”的事实作为“无效”前提。

从杭州市拱墅区社会保险管理服务中心提供的《告知书》中可见，其推翻约定拒不履行对陈树庆的社会保险责任的理由是：根据《中华人民共和国劳动法》第二条第一款“在中华人民共和国境内的企业、个体经济组织（以下统称用人单位）和与之形成劳动关系的劳动者，适用本法”、第七十二条“用人单位和劳动者必须依法参加社会保险，缴纳社会保险费”，《中华人民共和国社会保险法》第十条第一款、第二款“职工应当参加基本养老保险，由用人单位和职工共同缴纳基本养老保险费。无雇工的个体工商户、未在用人单位参加基本养老保险的非全日制从业人员以及其他灵活就业人员可以参加基本养老保险，由个人缴纳基本养老保险费”，《浙江省人力资源和社会保障厅关于被判处有期徒刑人员基本养老保险有关问题的复函》（浙人社函[2010]358号）等规定服刑人员在服刑期间不属于职工基本养老保险参保对象，服刑期间参保属于违规参保缴费，该期间缴纳的职工基本养老保险应当清退。

显而易见，上述《劳动法》和《社会保险法》包括《浙江省职工基本养老保险条例》里的规定，是要求用人单位和劳动者去缴纳社会保险费，立法目的是保障从业人员的社会保险权利，里面并没有“服刑人员不能参加社会保险”的强制性规定；至于浙人社函[2010]358号《复函》，是（此件依申请公开），根据法律未经公布不生效的原则，“依申请公开”不能等同于“公布”，没有对抗不知情相对人的任何效力；《复函》做出日期是“二〇一〇年九月三十日”、印发日期是2010年10月9日，对我在2010年9月13日已经结束的第一次服刑四年期间缴费显然没有追溯效果；更何况《复函》不具备《中华人民共和国立法法》中有关法律、行政法规、地方性法规、自治条例和单行条例、规章的级别和效果，属于无立法权的政府部门替自己“既当运动员，又当裁判员”制定的“比赛规则”，里面所指的“服刑人员不能参加社会保险”明显属于2018年2月8日施行的《最高人民法院关于适用〈中华人民共和国行政诉讼法〉的解释》99 条将典型的关于行政主体“重大且明显违法”的情形之“第二，减损权利或增加义务的行政行为没有法律依据。”，所以也不能作为政府自己违约的依据。

陈树庆认为自己已经到了法定年龄享受退休的资格与待遇，除了前述实际已缴费的年限及对政府信赖利益保护原则以外，没有任一现行法律的条款明确规定服刑人员在服刑期间不得享有社会保险。而在对陈树庆的两次判刑的判决书中，判决了剥夺一定期限的人身自由与政治权利，并没有判决剥夺社会经济权利当然包括享有社会保险的权利。根据中华人民共和国政府1997年10月27日签署、全国人民代表大会常务委员会2001年2月28日批准的已经具备法律效力的《经济、社会及文化权利国际公约》“第九条：本盟约缔约国确认人人享有社会保障，包括社会保险”的规定，陈树庆并不因为其服刑就成了“人人”之外，应该享有社会保险。

    更何况，本案如果进一步展开下去，还牵涉到中国监狱普遍的对犯人强制无偿劳动的问题。本案原告陈树庆第一次坐牢期间自2008年1月至2010年9月共计2年零8个月在浙江省乔司监狱六分监狱七监区参与生产外贸箱包3个月及伙房菜班组进行菜肴初加工2年5个月；第二次坐牢期间自2017年1月至2025年3月共计8年2个月在浙江省乔司监狱三分监狱六监区参与生产外贸箱包3个月及伙房面食组烧制犯人主食7年11个月。两次坐牢期间不算第一次坐牢看守所里的零星劳动，实际参加监狱劳动累计10年10个月，所以，根据早在1948年12月10日联合国大会通过的《世界人权宣言》第四条“任何人不得使为奴隶或奴役，一切形式的奴隶制度和奴隶买卖，均应禁止”；第二十二条“每个人，作为社会的一员，有享有社会保障，并有权享有他的个人尊严和人格的自由发展所必须的经济、社会和文化方面各种权利的实现，……”；第二十三条第（二）款“人人有同工同酬之权利，不容任何区别”。中华人民共和国政府1998年10月5日签署的《公民权利及政治权利国际公约》也有“任何人不得使充奴工”的相关规定。按照这些国际法的要求，即使监狱犯人依法判决并以改造为目标的服“苦役”，也应与《中华人民共和国劳动法》相应的同工同酬及社会保险接轨。如果作为联合国常任理事国的我国政府能够遵守这些宣言与公约，将我服刑期间参加劳动应有的劳动报酬与社会保障予以考量和贯彻，即使我自己及亲朋好友工作单位替我服刑期间的缴费不算，也够15年以上办理退休的资格与相关手续。

当然，政府遵守已经签署、甚至有的已经批准的《国际公约》，不仅是法治社会依法行政的要求，也是一个文明社会起码得“公序良俗”。

综上，无论是《浙江省人力资源和社会保障厅关于被判处有期徒刑人员基本养老保险有关问题的复函》的抽象行政行为，还是杭州市拱墅区社会保险管理服务中心处理陈树庆退休事宜的具体行政行为，为了让行政主体可以“约而不守”，对自己的权力做出了超出法律规定的扩张性理解，对民众的权利做出了法律规定以外的压缩性诠释，法律在他们眼里于己于人双重标准，成了权力随意拿捏、对别人可紧、对自己可松的橡皮筋，而非可以将权力关进笼子的刚性标准。

好在《最高人民法院关于适用〈中华人民共和国行政诉讼法〉的解释》99 条将行政主体“减损（行政相对人）权利或增加（行政相对人）义务的行政行为”认定为“没有法律依据”。接下来，我不妨探究司法这一权力制衡的“笼子”，在实践中是否足够刚性与坚硬，能不能关住行政权力这一“猛兽”，拭目以待！ 

附：一、盖着“杭州市拱墅区社会保险管理服务中心”印章的《告知书》；

二、《浙江省人力资源和社会保障厅文件》浙人社函[2010]358号。

2026年1月2日 完稿于中国杭州

Can a Cage Made of Rubber Bands Confine the Beast of Power?

Author: Chen ShuqingEditor: Feng RengManaging Editor: Zhong RanProofreader: Lin XiaolongTranslator: Peng Xiaomei

Abstract:The author recounts his experience of being denied a pension by a social security agency on the grounds of “non-compliance with policy,” arguing that the government has breached its commitment and lacks sufficient legal basis. The article analyzes the legal effectiveness of social insurance contributions made by incarcerated persons and the legal force of official reply letters and emphasizes that the judiciary should serve as the “cage” that restrains administrative power.

In a society governed by the rule of law, the purpose of enacting laws, establishing systems of checks and balances on power, and safeguarding the people’s right to supervision is to confine power—the beast—within a cage, so that while power is fully exercised in service of society, abuses of power are effectively prevented, ensuring that this beast cannot harm the people’s freedom and rights.

The metaphor of power as a beast, and of law, institutions, and the people’s supervisory rights as a cage, appeared as early as October 10, 2004, when U.S. President George W. Bush, in a discussion of national security and power, used the phrase “Power is a formidable, awesome beast.” In a subsequent speech, he put it even more vividly: “The most precious achievement in thousands of years of human history is not dazzling technology, not the classic works of great masters, not politicians’ flowery speeches, but the realization of the dream of taming rulers and putting them in cages. Only by taming them and locking them up can they be prevented from harming people. I am now speaking to you from inside the cage.”

On January 22, 2013, shortly after assuming office, General Secretary Xi Jinping of the Communist Party of China, in an anti-corruption speech at the Second Plenary Session of the 18th Central Commission for Discipline Inspection, also proposed to “lock power in a cage.” In the more than ten years since, whether in Xi’s speeches or in other official documents, the phrase “lock power in a cage” has been repeatedly emphasized. But what have the actual results been? Official propaganda and public opinion offer divergent views. For me personally, it is my own lived experience and reflections that are the most profound.

At just after 9 a.m. on December 25, 2025, I received a phone call from 0571-87882793. On the other end was Chen Mingpeng, the staff member in Room 105 who had received me on December 17 when I handled my retirement procedures at the Gongshu District Government Service Center on Xiangjisi Road No. 58. He said he had just learned that I had already submitted an application for retirement on December 4 to Daguan Subdistrict, and that he had now also received my “Application for Government Information Disclosure” submitted to the Hangzhou Gongshu District Human Resources and Social Security Bureau. He said the materials I requested were ready and asked me to come pick them up. I agreed and arrived before 10 a.m. I received several documents, including a “Notice” stamped with the seal of the “Hangzhou Gongshu District Social Insurance Management Service Center,” and a document dated September 30, 2010, titled “Reply on Issues Concerning Basic Pension Insurance for Persons Sentenced to Fixed-Term Imprisonment (This Document Is Disclosed Upon Request)” (Zhejiang Human Resources and Social Security Letter [2010] No. 358) issued by the Zhejiang Provincial Department of Human Resources and Social Security.

After reading these materials, I felt both disappointed and relieved. I was disappointed because the “Notice” explicitly rejected my application to receive a pension on the grounds of “non-compliance with policy,” despite the fact that my 24 years and 4 months of social insurance contributions exceeded the minimum requirement of 15 years. It only confirmed that my “legally valid actual contribution period for employee basic pension insurance” was 9 years and 10 months. It seemed that receiving my pension now would be very difficult. I was relieved because the legal and policy bases cited in the “Notice” were clearly misapplied or lacked sufficient legal force, leaving room for further rights-protection efforts.

The facts of this case are as follows: I, Chen Shuqing, along with my family and the units through which I worked or had my social insurance registered, paid social insurance contributions on my behalf, and were never clearly informed that contributions could not be made during periods of imprisonment. Even after my final release upon completion of my sentence on March 10, 2025, the social insurance contributions for the most recent years of interrupted payments (including some periods during imprisonment) were successfully completed through several supplementary payments to the Gongshu District social insurance agency. The social insurance agency had no difficulty collecting the contributions, but when it came time to fulfill its insurance obligations, it suddenly changed its position, citing so-called “relevant policies” to refuse to perform its social insurance responsibilities. Thus, the core dispute in this case first centers on whether the people’s legitimate expectation interests vis-à-vis the government can be protected in specific administrative actions—put more plainly, whether the government can arbitrarily breach its commitments.

It is not hard to see that in recent decades, cases of government breach of commitment have repeatedly appeared in public discourse. If the government can breach commitments at will, the public will inevitably face uncertainty and confusion, fearing that government power may devour their rights like a beast. Although in each case the government offers certain “reasons” to justify its failure to honor its word, those reasons must withstand strict legal scrutiny. Do the “relevant policies” relied upon by the Hangzhou Gongshu District social insurance agency to refuse to process my pension eligibility actually hold water? This article now offers a preliminary analysis.

The legal relationships in this case are constituted by two sets of facts. The first concerns the payment of social insurance contributions, including whether contributions made during imprisonment are valid. I, Chen Shuqing, and my employing units are the obligors of payment, while the government (the social insurance agency and fiscal authorities) are the rights holders of collection. The second concerns the receipt of a pension upon reaching statutory retirement age, at which point I become the rights holder (beneficiary), and the government becomes the obligor for social insurance payment. Because the social insurance agency performs government social insurance management and service duties under statutory authorization, this conduct has the nature of a specific administrative act; yet because the entire process is jointly completed by a civil subject (me) and an administrative subject (the social insurance agency), it resembles a “contract” in civil legal behavior. If the social insurance agency asserts that the 10 years and 6 months of social insurance contributions paid during my imprisonment are invalid, then the conclusion in the “Notice” that I have only 9 years and 10 months of valid contributions would stand. If I maintain that all contributions I made, including those during imprisonment, are valid, then the determination in the “Notice” is erroneous, and the Hangzhou Gongshu District Social Insurance Management Service Center, representing the government, should immediately complete my retirement procedures and pay the statutory and agreed-upon pension on time.

A modern society governed by the rule of law operates on the principle that “for the government, what is not authorized by law is prohibited; for the people, what is not prohibited by law is free.” If one claims that my payment of social insurance contributions during imprisonment is invalid, one must point out what the law “prohibits.” On this issue, the Civil Code of the People’s Republic of China contains relevant provisions regarding the validity of civil legal acts. Article 153 of Chapter 6, Section 3, “General Provisions,” of Book One of the Civil Code provides: “A civil legal act that violates mandatory provisions of laws or administrative regulations is void… A civil legal act that violates public order or good morals is void.” Thus, “violation of mandatory provisions of laws or administrative regulations” or “violation of public order or good morals” are prerequisites for invalidity.

From the “Notice” provided by the Hangzhou Gongshu District Social Insurance Management Service Center, it can be seen that its reason for repudiating the agreement and refusing to perform its social insurance obligations to me is based on Article 2, Paragraph 1, and Article 72 of the Labor Law of the People’s Republic of China; Article 10, Paragraphs 1 and 2, of the Social Insurance Law of the People’s Republic of China; and the “Reply on Issues Concerning Basic Pension Insurance for Persons Sentenced to Fixed-Term Imprisonment” (Zhejiang Human Resources and Social Security Letter [2010] No. 358). These provisions assert that incarcerated persons do not fall within the scope of insured participants in employee basic pension insurance, that participation during imprisonment constitutes irregular enrollment, and that contributions paid during such periods should be refunded.

It is evident that the provisions of the Labor Law, the Social Insurance Law, and the Regulations on Employee Basic Pension Insurance of Zhejiang Province require employers and workers to pay social insurance contributions, with the legislative purpose of safeguarding workers’ social insurance rights. They do not contain any mandatory provision stating that incarcerated persons may not participate in social insurance. As for the Reply Letter [2010] No. 358, it was disclosed “upon request.” Under the principle that laws not promulgated do not take effect, “disclosed upon request” cannot be equated with “promulgated,” and thus has no effect against uninformed parties. Moreover, the date of issuance of the Reply is September 30, 2010, with a distribution date of October 9, 2010, and it clearly has no retroactive effect on the first period of my imprisonment, which ended on September 13, 2010. Furthermore, the Reply lacks the legal status and effect of laws, administrative regulations, local regulations, autonomous regulations, separate regulations, or rules as provided under the Legislative Law of the People’s Republic of China. It is a set of “competition rules” made by a government department without legislative authority, acting as both “athlete and referee.” Its assertion that “incarcerated persons may not participate in social insurance” clearly falls under the circumstance described in Article 99 of the Supreme People’s Court’s Interpretation on the Application of the Administrative Litigation Law (effective February 8, 2018): “Second, administrative acts that reduce rights or increase obligations without a legal basis,” which constitutes a “serious and obvious illegality.” Therefore, it cannot serve as a basis for the government’s breach of commitment.

I, Chen Shuqing, believe that having reached the statutory retirement age, I am entitled to retirement qualifications and benefits. Apart from the actual contribution period already paid and the principle of protecting legitimate expectations, there is no existing legal provision that explicitly states that incarcerated persons may not enjoy social insurance during imprisonment. In the two criminal judgments against me, the penalties imposed were deprivation of personal liberty and political rights for a certain period; there was no judgment depriving me of social and economic rights, including the right to social insurance. According to Article 9 of the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, signed by the Chinese government on October 27, 1997, and approved by the Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress on February 28, 2001, which has legal effect—“The States Parties to the present Covenant recognize the right of everyone to social security, including social insurance”—I do not cease to be part of “everyone” merely because I was incarcerated, and should enjoy social insurance.

Moreover, if this case is pursued further, it also involves the widespread issue of compulsory unpaid labor imposed on prisoners in Chinese prisons. During my first imprisonment, from January 2008 to September 2010, I spent a total of 2 years and 8 months in the Seventh Ward of the Sixth Division of Qiaosi Prison in Zhejiang Province, participating in the production of export bags for 3 months and in preliminary food processing in the prison kitchen for 2 years and 5 months. During my second imprisonment, from January 2017 to March 2025, I spent 8 years and 2 months in the Sixth Ward of the Third Division of Qiaosi Prison, participating in export bag production for 3 months and in cooking staple foods for prisoners in the kitchen for 7 years and 11 months. Excluding sporadic labor during detention before my first imprisonment, I participated in prison labor for a cumulative total of 10 years and 10 months. According to Article 4 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, adopted by the UN General Assembly on December 10, 1948—“No one shall be held in slavery or servitude; slavery and the slave trade shall be prohibited in all their forms”; Article 22—“Everyone, as a member of society, has the right to social security…”; and Article 23(2)—“Everyone, without any discrimination, has the right to equal pay for equal work”—as well as provisions in the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights signed by the Chinese government on October 5, 1998 prohibiting forced labor, even prisoners lawfully sentenced to “penal labor” for the purpose of reform should have their labor aligned with the principles of equal pay for equal work and social insurance under the Labor Law of the People’s Republic of China. If our government, as a permanent member of the UN Security Council, were to comply with these declarations and covenants, and take into account and implement the labor remuneration and social security due for my labor during imprisonment, then even without counting the contributions paid by myself, my family, or my employers during imprisonment, I would still meet the 15-year requirement for retirement eligibility and related procedures.

Of course, for the government to comply with international covenants that it has signed—and in some cases ratified—is not only a requirement of governing according to law in a rule-of-law society, but also a minimum standard of “public order and good morals” for a civilized society.

In sum, whether it is the abstract administrative act embodied in the “Reply on Issues Concerning Basic Pension Insurance for Persons Sentenced to Fixed-Term Imprisonment” issued by the Zhejiang Provincial Department of Human Resources and Social Security, or the specific administrative act by the Hangzhou Gongshu District Social Insurance Management Service Center in handling my retirement, both reflect an expansionist interpretation of power beyond legal limits in order to allow the administrative authority to “break its promises,” and a restrictive interpretation of citizens’ rights beyond what the law provides. In their eyes, the law applies double standards—tight on others, loose on themselves—becoming a rubber band that power can stretch at will, rather than a rigid standard capable of confining power in a cage.

Fortunately, Article 99 of the Supreme People’s Court’s Interpretation on the Application of the Administrative Litigation Law identifies administrative acts that “reduce the rights of administrative counterparts or increase their obligations” as acts “without legal basis.” Next, I intend to examine whether the judiciary—the “cage” of power checks and balances—is sufficiently rigid and strong in practice to confine the “beast” of administrative power. We shall wait and see.

Appendices:

“Notice” stamped with the seal of the Hangzhou Gongshu District Social Insurance Management Service Center.

Zhejiang Human Resources and Social Security Letter [2010] No. 358.

Completed on January 2, 2026, in Hangzhou, China.

作者：张致君

编辑：李聪玲 责任编辑：钟然 校对：林小龙 翻译：彭小梅

我在中国大陆长大，清楚地知道什么叫做压抑。那种压抑并不是某一天突如其来的打击，而是一种从空气里长出来的东西——它渗进语言，渗进习惯，最后渗进人的灵魂。正因为如此，我比很多人更早明白，尊重一个民族决定自己命运的权利，比爱国口号重要得多。

几个月前，我在美国加州的一场学术论坛上，听到一位来自台湾的教授感叹：“乌克兰的今天，就是台湾的明天。”那一刻，现场陷入短暂的沉默。没有人反驳，因为这句话折射出的，不仅是台湾的焦虑，也揭示出整个东亚的脆弱现实。

会后，我和一些台湾朋友聊天。他们大多不是政治人物，只是普通百姓。多数人说，他们希望维持现状，希望和平。他们不是不知道危险，只是更害怕失去安稳的日常。和平在他们嘴里，不是政治词，而是一种生活方式。“和平”在政治的“统”“独”之间更像是群众的心声。

台湾社会这些年，总像活在一个假设之下：若中国入侵，国际社会必然出手相助。这个假设在冷战时期或许合理，但在今日的国际格局中，已显得越来越脆弱。单从现在美国政府的外交政策来看，已经不是单纯由道义驱动，而更深植于利益权衡。台湾对此并非毫无察觉。1978年，美国与中华民国断交的那一刻，这个教训便深深烙印在台湾的集体记忆中。当卡特宣布与北京建交，蒋经国在深夜被告知这一决定时的沉默，象征着台湾被现实政治抛弃的那一瞬间。

此后，台湾在中美之间艰难维持模糊的安全感——既倚赖美国的军售与承诺，又谨慎避免触怒北京。但随着中美竞争加剧，美国国内的孤立主义再度浮现，台湾开始意识到：它或许只是棋盘上的一枚筹码，而非真正被视为命运共同体的盟友。

前不久，川普与习近平会面，台湾议题未被公开提及。事后，美方仅轻描淡写地表示：“习近平不会动台湾，他知道后果。”这句模糊的话语令人想起2019年香港抗议期间，外界期待的援助最终化为一句“那是中国的事”。所谓“后果”，从未明确指向善恶，只是政治表演的一部分。在理想主义渐退的时代，介入与袖手之间，从来不是道德，而是经过计算的。

美国对亚洲的态度，从来笼罩着复杂的历史阴影。十九世纪末，随着大量华工抵达西岸，“黄祸”（Yellow Peril）成为舆论的高频词汇。那种恐惧不仅源于种族主义，也反映了一种根深蒂固的文化优越感。这种视角至今仍以更精致的形式存在：在国际的政治语言中，亚洲国家要么被视为“值得扶持的民主伙伴”，要么被标记为“需要防范的潜在威胁”。台湾正处在这两种叙事之间摇摆。当它符合战略利益时，是“民主灯塔”；当它可能牵动冲突时，又被视作“地缘风险”。这种被动处境，其实延续着百年前的“黄祸”逻辑——只是换上了更文明的外衣。在西方视角下，亚洲国家的价值，往往不是由其人民决定，而是由它们在大国竞争格局中的位置决定。

台湾社会的撕裂，表面上是蓝绿对立，深层则是恐惧的扩散。人们害怕被中国吞并，也害怕被国际社会放弃。于是，任何有关“对话”与“和解”的讨论，都会被迅速贴上“亲共”或“投降”的标签。这种语境让我想起自己在中国大陆成长的年代——一个言论受限、政治紧绷的时代。我从小被教育要“警惕敌对势力”“坚决反对分裂”，那种基于恐惧的国家认同让我曾以为安全，其实只是思想的牢笼。如今，当我在美国听到台湾内部以同样的语言描述“对岸”，一种无力感油然而生。自由社会最可贵的地方，不在于仇恨的正确性，而在于理性的可能性。

和解与投降之间有清晰界线。和平，不是屈服，而是掌握谈判主动权的智慧。若要守护民主制度，台湾必须首先避免被卷入大国的战争。马英九执政时期（2008–2016）曾短暂证明这一点——两岸关系在那段时间出现了罕见的缓和：学术交流、商业往来、文化互访，甚至促成了2015年习近平与马英九的会面。那次会面没有带来传闻的恐怖“统一”，却带来了另一种想象：对话，也许比对抗更能保障安全。可惜，这个窗口很快关闭。香港抗争、北京强硬更加使“和平”成为政治禁词。如今的台湾政治风向，把“强化敌意”当成视为保卫民主的唯一途径，但现实是：没有和平，民主又能存活多久？好在与大陆不同，台湾政府建立在民选的基础上，人民群众有绝对行使自己选票的权利进行坚定或是修正。

我对台湾的焦虑并不陌生。我看到的，是一个民族在不同体制下对自由的不同追求。大陆被国家机器塑造成“不能说不”，台湾则被恐惧推向“不能说和”。这两种极端，映照着同一个悲剧——恐惧取代了理性。

台湾的问题，不仅是台湾的，也是整个华语世界的。当民族始终被大国叙事牵引，无论是“统一”还是“独立”，都难以真正掌握自己的命运。主体性的恢复，必须从拒绝被利用开始：既不被北京利用，也不被其他力量利用。

台湾不必成为谁的“棋子”，也不应被当作谁的“前哨”。在中美竞争升级的今天，台湾的当务之急，似乎不是等待援助，而是重新定义自身的安全逻辑。这并不意味着屈从中国，而是以更成熟的政治智慧，寻找能守护自由的现实路径。

台湾的未来，不取决于美国是否出兵，也不取决于中国是否让步，而在于台湾社会能否勇敢地重新思考：自由，是靠武力守住的口号，还是靠理性谈出来的秩序？

我常看到一个讽刺的镜像：国际上谈自由，却会把它当成战略工具；中国谈统一，却能把它变成政治威胁；而真正为自由付出代价的，往往是那些生活在夹缝中的人。

台湾的命运尚未注定。但历史终将属于那些，即便在恐惧之中，仍愿意保持清醒的人。

Taiwan: A Moment of Clarity Under the Shadow of Great Powers

Abstract:Drawing on the author’s own experience of growing up in mainland China, this article reflects on Taiwan’s position amid U.S.–China rivalry. It criticizes politics driven by fear and exploitation by great powers, and argues that peace is not capitulation. Taiwan’s freedom should be grounded in rationality, autonomy, and the political wisdom to refuse becoming a pawn.

Author: Zhang Zhijun

Editor: Li Congling Managing Editor: Zhong RanProofreader: Lin Xiaolong Translator: Peng Xiaomei

I grew up in mainland China, and I know very clearly what oppression feels like. That oppression is not a sudden blow that arrives on a particular day, but something that grows out of the air itself—it seeps into language, seeps into habits, and finally seeps into the human soul. Precisely because of this, I understood earlier than many others that respecting a nation’s right to decide its own destiny is far more important than patriotic slogans.

A few months ago, at an academic forum in California, I heard a professor from Taiwan sigh and say, “Ukraine today is Taiwan tomorrow.”

At that moment, the room fell into a brief silence. No one refuted him, because what that sentence reflected was not only Taiwan’s anxiety, but also the fragile reality of the entire East Asian region.

After the forum, I chatted with some Taiwanese friends. Most of them were not politicians, just ordinary people. The majority said they hoped to maintain the status quo and hoped for peace. It was not that they were unaware of the danger; they were simply more afraid of losing the stability of everyday life. Peace, in their mouths, was not a political term, but a way of life. “Peace,” suspended between the political poles of “unification” and “independence,” sounded more like the voice of the people.

In recent years, Taiwanese society has seemed to live under an assumption: that if China were to invade, the international community would inevitably come to its aid. That assumption may have been reasonable during the Cold War, but in today’s international landscape, it has become increasingly fragile. Judging from the current foreign policy of the U.S. government alone, it is no longer driven purely by moral considerations but is more deeply rooted in calculations of interest. Taiwan is not unaware of this. In 1978, the moment the United States severed diplomatic ties with the Republic of China, this lesson was deeply imprinted on Taiwan’s collective memory. When Carter announced the establishment of diplomatic relations with Beijing, and Chiang Ching-kuo was informed of the decision late at night, his silence symbolized the instant Taiwan was abandoned by realpolitik.

After that, Taiwan struggled to maintain an ambiguous sense of security between China and the United States—relying on American arms sales and commitments, while cautiously avoiding provoking Beijing. But as U.S.–China competition has intensified and isolationism has reemerged within the United States, Taiwan has begun to realize that it may be nothing more than a bargaining chip on the chessboard, rather than an ally truly regarded as part of a shared destiny.

Not long ago, Trump met with Xi Jinping, and the Taiwan issue was not publicly mentioned. Afterward, the U.S. side merely stated in a perfunctory manner: “Xi Jinping won’t move on Taiwan; he knows the consequences.” This vague statement calls to mind the period of the Hong Kong protests in 2019, when the assistance many had hoped for ultimately dissolved into a single line: “That is China’s internal affair.” The so-called “consequences” have never been clearly defined in terms of good or evil; they are merely part of a political performance. In an era when idealism is receding, the choice between intervention and standing aside has never been a moral one, but a calculated decision.

America’s attitude toward Asia has always been shrouded in complex historical shadows. At the end of the nineteenth century, as large numbers of Chinese laborers arrived on the West Coast, the term “Yellow Peril” became a frequent refrain in public discourse. That fear was not only rooted in racism but also reflected a deeply ingrained sense of cultural superiority. This perspective persists to this day in more refined forms: in international political language, Asian countries are either seen as “democratic partners worthy of support” or labeled as “potential threats requiring containment.” Taiwan wavers between these two narratives. When it aligns with strategic interests, it is a “beacon of democracy”; when it risks triggering conflict, it becomes a “geopolitical risk.” This passive position in fact continues the logic of the “Yellow Peril” from a century ago—only dressed in more civilized attire. From a Western perspective, the value of Asian countries is often not determined by their people, but by their position within the great-power competition.

The fractures within Taiwanese society appear on the surface as the confrontation between the blue and green camps, but at a deeper level they are the spread of fear. People fear being swallowed by China, and they also fear being abandoned by the international community. As a result, any discussion of “dialogue” or “reconciliation” is quickly labeled as “pro-Communist” or “surrender.” This context reminds me of the years I grew up in mainland China—an era of restricted speech and political tension. From a young age, I was taught to “remain vigilant against hostile forces” and to “resolutely oppose separatism.” That fear-based national identity once made me feel safe, but it was merely a prison for the mind. Today, when I hear similar language used within Taiwan to describe “the other side” while I am in the United States, a sense of powerlessness wells up inside me. What is most precious about a free society lies not in the correctness of hatred, but in the possibility of reason.

There is a clear boundary between reconciliation and surrender. Peace is not submission, but the wisdom to seize the initiative in negotiation. If Taiwan wishes to safeguard its democratic system, it must first avoid being drawn into a great-power war. The period of Ma Ying-jeou’s presidency (2008–2016) once briefly demonstrated this point—cross-strait relations experienced a rare easing during those years: academic exchanges, commercial interactions, cultural visits, and even the 2015 meeting between Xi Jinping and Ma Ying-jeou. That meeting did not bring about the terrifying “unification” rumored at the time but instead offered another possibility: that dialogue might better guarantee security than confrontation. Unfortunately, this window quickly closed. The Hong Kong protests and Beijing’s growing assertiveness turned “peace” into a political taboo. Today’s political climate in Taiwan treats “intensifying hostility” as the only way to defend democracy, but the reality is this: without peace, how long can democracy survive? Fortunately, unlike the mainland, Taiwan’s government is founded on elections, and the people have the absolute right to exercise their votes to affirm or to correct the political course.

My anxiety about Taiwan is not unfamiliar. What I see is a nation pursuing freedom in different ways under different systems. The mainland is shaped by the state apparatus into a place where one “cannot say no,” while Taiwan is pushed by fear into a place where one “cannot say peace.” These two extremes reflect the same tragedy—fear has replaced reason.

Taiwan’s problem is not only Taiwan’s, but that of the entire Chinese-speaking world. When a nation is constantly pulled along by the narratives of great powers, whether it is “unification” or “independence,” it becomes difficult to truly control its own destiny. The restoration of agency must begin with refusing to be used—neither by Beijing nor by any other power.

Taiwan does not need to become anyone’s “pawn,” nor should it be treated as anyone’s “outpost.” In today’s escalating U.S.–China rivalry, Taiwan’s most urgent task seems not to be waiting for assistance but redefining its own logic of security. This does not mean yielding to China but rather seeking realistic paths to safeguard freedom with more mature political wisdom.

Taiwan’s future does not depend on whether the United States sends troops, nor on whether China makes concessions, but on whether Taiwanese society can courageously rethink this question: is freedom a slogan defended by force, or an order negotiated through reason?

I often see a bitterly ironic mirror image: internationally, people speak of freedom yet treat it as a strategic tool; China speaks of unification, yet turns it into a political threat; and those who truly pay the price for freedom are often the people living in the cracks between powers.

Taiwan’s fate is not yet sealed. But history will ultimately belong to those who, even amid fear, are still willing to remain clear-headed.

作者：程筱筱 编辑：冯仍 校对：林小龙 翻译：戈冰

摘要

本文指出，中国社会并非“无信仰”，而是长期形成了不允许任何超越性权威高于世俗秩序的结构。信仰被功能化、工具化，使其难以约束权力。现代政权并非消灭宗教，而是接管终极忠诚。当神必须服从权力，真正不受裁决的信仰便被视为风险。

在英文世界里，一个问题长期被反复提出：为什么大多数中国人看起来是无神论者？许多西方观察者给出的答案简单而直接——共产党、马克思主义、唯物主义教育。仿佛只要按下“意识形态”这个按钮，中国社会的信仰问题就自动获得了解释。但这个解释太省事了，也把因果顺序讲反了。如果把中国社会的信仰经验向历史深处回溯，就会发现一个令人不安、却更关键的事实：现代政治并不是让中国人变得“无信仰”，而是让人变得“不敢信神”。中国文明很早就形成了一种结构性共识——任何超越性的权威，都不能高于人间秩序，哪怕其对象是神。

比较中西文化差异时，“洪水叙事”常被提及，这个对比并不肤浅，反而极其精准。在《圣经》中，大洪水的起点是上帝的审判。人类因堕落而被惩罚，诺亚因顺服而被拯救，洪水何时降临、何时退去，完全取决于上帝的旨意，人类所能做的只是忏悔、服从并等待赦免，终极裁决权明确属于神。而中国人更熟悉的版本，是“大禹治水”。洪水同样是灾难，但解决方案不在天上，而在人间。禹不是通过祈祷换取宽恕，而是通过疏通河道、日夜劳作，把问题“解决掉”。这并非叙事风格的差异，而是信仰结构的根本分野：一个文明承认终极判断来自超越权威，另一个文明则默认人必须、也应该，自己承担最后责任。这也解释了一个常被误读的现象：西方人看到中国社会“拜很多神”，却很少看到那种唯一、绝对、不可动摇的信仰忠诚，于是得出“中国人没有信仰”的结论。更准确的说法是，中国社会并不习惯向任何超越权威的对象无限下跪，哪怕对象是神。

这种结构在现实生活中体现得更加直白。在许多中国人的经验中，拜神更像是在“办事”。愿望实现了，就去还愿；没实现，人们很少反思自身是否偏离信仰，更常见的反应是“这家不灵，换一家”。久旱不雨，就把龙王像抬出来晒太阳，让它“看看人间疾苦”；你若无效，就失去被尊敬的资格。这并非对神的亵渎，而是一种深层心理共识：神可以被尊敬，但必须“有用”；信仰可以存在，但不能凌驾于现实秩序之上。当信仰长期被塑造成一种功能型工具，它便独立、稳定、能够对世俗权力产生约束的宗教共同体。

理解了这一点，再回头看当代中国对宗教的系统性打压，就不再显得突兀。现代政权并非只是“消灭信仰”，而是试图接管信仰：你可以信，但信什么、怎么信、信到哪一步，必须由世俗权力批准；你可以敬神，但神不能拥有高于国家的权威；你可以祷告，但忠诚对象必须是政权。讲道要备案，聚会要审批，信仰内容要“符合方向”。真正被视为威胁的，从来不是某一条具体教义，而是任何不受完全控制的终极忠诚。家庭教会之所以始终成为重点打击对象，并非因为规模或组织形式，而在于它所承认的，是一个高于国家权力、不可由任何政权裁决的最终判断与良知标准。这种不受政治控制的信仰，在高度集权的体制中天然构成威胁。

真正的宗教信仰一旦存在，就不可能永远沦为工具。当它触及良知、审判与永恒真理之时，便必然与世俗权力发生张力。历史反复证明，试图将信仰完全收编为政治附属品的政权，最终面对的不是信仰消失，而是信仰被掏空，或转入地下，以更顽强的方式保存其独立性。中国宗教问题的核心，从来不是“信什么”，而是谁拥有作出最后裁决的权力。

中国现代社会的困境，也并不在于有没有信仰，而在于是否允许一个不受权力裁决的信仰存在。当连神都必须服从权力，权力一旦失去约束，剩下的就只能是强制。在这样的结构中，问题不在于宗教是否激进，而在于它是否承认官方体系拥有最终裁决权。一旦信仰坚持“神在掌权”，而非“权力在掌权”，它就必然被纳入风险管控的对象之中——在中国，连神也被要求“听话”。

When Even Gods Must “Obey”—The Dilemma of Faith Under China’s Power Structure

Author: Cheng Xiaoxiao Editor: Feng Reng

Proofreader: Lin Xiaolong Translator: Ge Bing

Abstract

This article argues that Chinese society is not “faithless,” but has long developed a structure that prohibits any transcendent authority from superseding the secular order. Faith has been functionalized and instrumentalized, rendering it incapable of constraining power. Modern regimes do not eliminate religion but seize ultimate allegiance. When gods must obey power, genuinely ungoverned faith is deemed a risk.

In the English-speaking world, a question has long been repeated: Why do most Chinese appear atheistic? Many Western observers offer a simple, direct answer—Communist Party, Marxism, materialist education. As if pressing the “ideology” button automatically explains China’s faith dynamics. Yet this explanation is too convenient, reversing the causal sequence. Tracing China’s faith experience back through history reveals a disturbing yet crucial truth: modern politics did not make Chinese people “faithless,” but rather made them “afraid to believe in gods.” Chinese civilization formed a structural consensus early on: no transcendent authority could supersede earthly order, even if that authority was divine.

When comparing cultural differences between East and West, the “flood narrative” is often cited. This contrast is not superficial but remarkably precise. In the Bible, the Great Flood began as God’s judgment. Humanity was punished for its corruption, while Noah was saved through obedience. The timing of the flood’s onset and retreat depended entirely on God’s will. All humans could do was repent, submit, and await forgiveness—the ultimate authority clearly resided with the divine. The version more familiar to Chinese people is “Yu the Great Taming the Floods.” Floods were equally catastrophic, but solutions lay not in heaven but on earth. Yu did not seek forgiveness through prayer; instead, he “solved” the problem by dredging rivers and laboring day and night. This is not merely a difference in narrative style but a fundamental divide in belief structures: one civilization acknowledges ultimate judgment as originating from a transcendent authority, while the other assumes that humans must and should bear final responsibility themselves. This also explains a frequently misinterpreted phenomenon: Western observers note that Chinese society “worships many gods” yet rarely observes the kind of singular, absolute, unshakable devotion to faith, leading them to conclude that “the Chinese lack faith.” A more accurate description is that Chinese society is not accustomed to bowing down infinitely to any transcendent authority, even if that authority is divine.

This structure manifests more plainly in daily life. For many Chinese, worshiping deities resembles “getting things done.” If a wish is granted, they fulfill their vow; if not, they seldom reflect on whether their faith has faltered. The more common reaction is, “This shrine doesn’t work—let’s try another.” During prolonged droughts, they carry the Dragon King’s statue out to bask in the sun, so he can “witness the suffering of humanity”; If you prove ineffective, you forfeit your right to reverence. This isn’t blasphemy, but a deep-seated psychological consensus: deities may be honored, but only if they are “useful”; faith may exist, but it cannot supersede the order of reality. When faith is consistently molded into a functional tool, it loses its capacity to form independent, stable religious communities capable of constraining secular power.

Understanding this context, contemporary China’s systematic suppression of religion no longer appears abrupt. The modern regime does not merely seek to “eradicate faith,” but to appropriate it: you may believe, but what you believe, how you believe, and to what extent—all must be sanctioned by secular authority; you may worship deities, but no deity may hold authority above the state; you may pray, but your allegiance must remain with the regime. Sermons require filing, gatherings demand approval, and the content of faith must “align with the direction.” What is truly perceived as a threat has never been any specific doctrine, but rather any ultimate allegiance that cannot be fully controlled. The reason house churches remain a primary target of suppression is not their size or organizational structure, but their acknowledgment of a final judgment and moral standard that transcends state power and cannot be adjudicated by any regime. Such faith, free from political control, inherently poses a threat within a highly centralized system.

Once genuine religious faith exists, it cannot forever be reduced to a tool. When it touches upon conscience, judgment, and eternal truth, it inevitably creates tension with secular power. History repeatedly demonstrates that regimes attempting to fully subjugate faith as a political appendage ultimately confront not the disappearance of belief, but its hollowing out or retreat into the underground, where it preserves its independence with even greater tenacity. The core issue of religion in China has never been “what to believe,” but who possesses the authority to make the final judgment.

The predicament of modern Chinese society also lies not in the presence or absence of faith, but in whether a faith free from the dictates of power is permitted to exist. When even the divine must submit to authority, and that authority remains unchecked, coercion becomes the only remaining option. Within such a structure, the issue is not whether religion is radical, but whether it acknowledges the official system’s ultimate authority. Once faith insists that “God reigns” rather than “power reigns,” it inevitably becomes subject to risk management—in China, even the divine is required to “obey.”

作者：瞿成松 编辑：韩立华 校对：冯仍 翻译：戈冰

纪念刘晓波先生：七十岁，且永远年轻

天堂的风吹过，没有年龄，没有监狱，没有死亡。

你依然年轻，且将永远年轻。

你的“年轻”，不是岁月的数字，而是良心的光亮；不是身体的存在，而是精神的不朽。你的一生，被铁窗围困，却从未被恐惧驯服；被权力审判，却始终站在真理一边。你用温和而坚定的语言，证明了一个简单却被反复否认的事实：人，可以在不仇恨的情况下，拒绝谎言；可以在不暴力的前提下，对抗专制。

你所反对的，并不是某个民族，而是极权；不是某群人民，而是谎言。你用“没有敌人”的胸怀，照亮了一个被恐惧统治的时代。正因如此，中国共产党惧怕你——惧怕一个不肯跪下的良心，惧怕一个不以仇恨回应仇恨的灵魂。

历史已经给出答案：监狱关得住身体，却关不住思想；权力可以夺走生命，却夺不走尊严。你被囚禁的每一天，都是对迫害者的审判；你被噤声的每一刻，都让更多人学会发声。你的名字，成为良心的同义词；你的沉默，胜过万千口号。

今天纪念你，不是为了哀伤，而是为了继承。继承你对自由的坚持、对真理的忠诚、对暴力的拒绝。我们清楚地知道：反对极权、反对迫害、反对谎言，是每一个有良心之人的责任；亲近极权、为迫害辩护，是可耻的；坚持反对极权、以和平方式争取自由，是光荣的。这不是仇恨的选择，而是道德的选择；不是破坏的冲动，而是文明的自救。

你曾说，希望未来的中国没有恐惧。我们也相信，那一天会到来。不是靠报复，而是靠真理；不是靠暴力，而是靠勇气；不是靠遗忘，而是靠记忆。记住你，就是记住人何以为人。

刘晓波先生，今天你七十岁。

天堂的风吹过，没有年龄，没有监狱，没有死亡。

你依然年轻，且将永远年轻。

（瞿成松 中国民主党党员 中国暴政观察创办人）

In Memory of Mr. Liu Xiaobo

Abstract: This article commemorates the 70th anniversary of Mr. Liu Xiaobo’s birth on December 28 with concise and elegant prose. The author praises Liu Xiaobo’s youthful spirit, his commitment to truth and freedom through nonviolent means, and his resistance against totalitarianism and falsehood.

Author: Qu Chengsong Editor: Han Lihua

Proofreader: Feng Reng Translator: Ge Bing

In Memory of Mr. Liu Xiaobo: Seventy Years Old, Yet Forever Young

The winds of heaven blow, free from age, free from prisons, free from death.

You remain young, and shall forever remain young.

Your “youth” is not a number of years, but the radiance of conscience; not physical presence, but the immortality of spirit. Your life was besieged by iron bars, yet never tamed by fear; judged by power, yet always standing on the side of truth. With gentle yet resolute words, you proved a simple yet repeatedly denied truth: one can reject lies without hatred; and resist tyranny without resorting to violence.

What you oppose is not any particular nation, but totalitarianism; not any group of people, but lies. With a heart that harbors “no enemies,” you illuminate an era ruled by fear. Precisely for this reason, the Chinese Communist Party fears you—fears a conscience that refuses to kneel, fears a soul that does not repay hatred with hatred.

History has delivered its verdict: Prisons may confine the body, but they cannot imprison the mind; power may take life, but it cannot strip away dignity. Every day of your imprisonment was a judgment upon your persecutors; every moment you were silenced taught more people to speak out. Your name became synonymous with conscience; your silence spoke louder than a thousand slogans.

Today we commemorate you not in sorrow, but to inherit your legacy. We inherit your steadfast commitment to freedom, your loyalty to truth, and your rejection of violence. We know clearly: opposing tyranny, opposing persecution, opposing lies is the duty of every person of conscience; aligning with tyranny, defending persecution is shameful; persisting in opposing tyranny and striving for freedom through peaceful means is honorable. This is not a choice of hatred, but a moral choice; not an impulse to destroy, but civilization’s self-rescue.

You once said you hoped for a future China without fear. We too believe that day will come. Not through vengeance, but through truth; not through violence, but through courage; not through forgetting, but through remembrance. Remembering you is remembering what it means to be human.

Mr. Liu Xiaobo, today you would have been seventy.

The winds of heaven blow, where there is no age, no prison, no death.

You remain young, and will forever remain young.

(Qu Chengsong, Member of the China Democracy Party, Founder of China Tyranny Watch)

《全球覺醒》第五十六期

自由之鐘 時刻敲響 全球覺醒 民主聯盟 消滅獨裁 推翻暴政

【活動主題】抗議關押異見人士，要求中共立即釋放政治犯回家過年！

春節將近，街頭已經開始洋溢節日的氣氛，家家戶戶正計劃團聚過年。然而在這個本應闔家團圓的時刻，大量維權人士、訪民和異見人士卻被無法與家人團聚。中共以「維穩」為名，讓異議者過年無法和家人團圓，這種違反人倫的惡行只有中共這個邪惡的政權才做得出來！

中國民主黨相關人士中，王炳章博士是最具象徵性的例子。王炳章是中國民主運動的重要奠基者之一，曾在海外參與創建中國民主黨相關組織，因推動民主理念，於2003年被中共判處無期徒刑，二十多年來長期遭到單獨囚禁。僅僅因為政見不同，一個政權就可以剝奪一個人一生的自由！

同樣的命運也落在其他民主人士身上。秦永敏因參與組建中國民主黨地方組織，兩度以「顛覆國家政權罪」被重判，至今仍在服刑。法律學者許志永，因為為弱勢群體發聲、倡導公民權利，被判處十四年有期徒刑，未來多年無法與家人團聚。

中國民主黨今天站在這裡，就是要揭穿這種「節日穩定」的虛假表象。一個需要製造骨肉分離、製造恐懼來維持春節氣氛的政權，本身就是對人權的踐踏！

同時，我們也正在為國內受迫害者和其家屬發起捐助行動。捐助不僅是物質支持，更是對良知的聲援。我們要讓受中共這個殘暴政權迫害的人知道，他們並不孤單！

我們嚴正要求中共立即停止政治迫害，無條件釋放所有政治犯與良心犯，讓他們回家過年。

✊立即釋放所有政治犯！

✊維穩就是迫害，穩定掩蓋罪惡！

✊推翻中共，結束暴政！

時間：2026年1月25日(星期日)3:30PM(下午)

地點：中共駐洛杉磯總領館

地址：443 Shatto Pl, Los Angeles, CA 90020

活動召集人：廖軍/劉廣賢

活動規劃：孙晔/ 王付青

活動主持：易勇

組織者：

胡月明4806536918 /張帥 6264179456

王尊福6269773679 /盧振華6264136083

張允密6263412820 / 高孟霞 6263805794

活動義工： 于海龍 /王彪 /張維清/付超群/劉超 /付靜爭/杜吉平/歐陽淵博

攝影：Ji Luo /王永

主辦單位：

中國民主黨聯合總部美西黨部

中國民主黨聯合總部美南黨部

自由鐘民主基金會

韩战风云 第一讲：韩战的爆发与初期局势

时间：01/25/2026（周日）

时段：3:00–5:00 PM

地点：2077 Gold St, Alviso, CA 95002

1950—1953年的韩战，不仅是一场半岛战争，更是冷战早期深刻影响世界格局的关键事件。然而，在中文世界流行的相关叙事中，长期混杂着大量误读与伪史：既有政治宣传的系统性编造，也有早期研究因史料受限而形成的偏差结论。

随着近几十年来多方档案的逐步解密，我们已具备条件重新审视这场战争。本系列讲座将基于最新公开史料，力求还原一段更接近事实的韩战历史。

第一讲重点内容：

韩战究竟如何发动？

斯大林、毛泽东、金日成在决策中的真实角色与互动关系。

战争爆发后，自由世界的应对机制如何迅速形成？苏联在幕后又采取了哪些关键布局？

从1950年6月至10月、中共正式参战之前，战局为何数度逆转？釜山防线、仁川登陆等关键战役的战略意义何在？

从军事史视角看，韩战最初四个月的进程跌宕起伏、充满意外，却长期被中文世界所忽略。本讲将对这一阶段进行全景回顾，梳理关键战役与战略博弈，帮助听众建立更加清晰、符合史实的认知框架。

欢迎对历史真相、国际政治与冷战史有严肃兴趣的朋友参加。

活动通告：第774次茉莉花行动

纪念铁链女事件四周年

四年前，铁链女被锁在江苏丰县的院子里。

她被剥夺姓名、语言、行动与人生，

而国家选择掩盖、转移、消音，至今无人被真正追责。

四年过去，铁链并未消失。

它从铁锁变成了“婚姻义务”，

从锁链变成了“孝道”“稳定”“为你好”，

从院子延伸到家庭、舆论与制度。

在中国，女性的身体与人生被持续纳入治理逻辑：

婚姻被政治化，生育被任务化，

拒绝被视为“不懂事”“不正常”“破坏稳定”。

铁链女不是个案，

她是一整套独裁体制与父权结构合谋下的产物。

当女性无法说“不”，

当求助渠道被封锁，

当暴力被称为“传统”，

铁链就会一再复制。

在铁链女事件四周年之际，我们重申：

• 反对逼婚、强迫婚姻与婚姻政治化

• 反对国家默许和纵容父权暴力

• 反对将女性当作家庭与社会稳定工具

• 坚持女性拥有完整、不可让渡的人身与人生选择权

铁链必须被命名，责任必须被追究。

女性不是稳定工具，更不是牺牲品。

今天为铁链女发声，

也是为所有仍被困在“看不见的铁链”中的女性。

反对父权｜反对逼婚｜反对独裁

时间：2026年1月25日 周日 下午14:00

地点：中共洛杉矶领事馆

发起人：黄春远、蔡晓丽、程虹、朱晓娜

组织：高晗、黄娟、林养正、孙小龙

主持人：程筱筱、张宇

物料义工：王府

活动现场负责人：倪世成 卓皓然

发起组织：

中国民主党全国委员会女权部

中国民主党全国委员会河南省工委

中国洛杉矶民主平台

协办：硬糖联盟/在野党

新冠疫情六周年纪念与反思活动公告

——从隐瞒真相、动态清零到白纸运动

2020年初，新冠疫情在中国爆发。六年过去，这场疫情早已不仅是一场公共卫生灾难，更是一场深刻的制度、人权与良知危机。

从最初对疫情的隐瞒、对吹哨人的打压，到随后席卷全国的**“动态清零”政策**，无数普通人被封控在家中、失去工作、延误救治，甚至失去生命；从个体的苦难与沉默，到2022年底遍布全国与海外的白纸运动，中国社会经历了一次前所未有的集体觉醒与抗争。

在新冠疫情爆发六周年之际，我们希望通过一次公开的纪念与反思活动：

• 追忆疫情中被掩盖的真相与被牺牲的生命

• 反思极权体制如何制造并放大灾难

• 纪念白纸运动中勇敢发声的公民

• 探讨中国未来走向自由、法治与尊严的可能道路

历史不能被遗忘，苦难不应被消音。唯有记住，才可能避免重演；唯有反思，才可能走向改变。

活动信息

时间：

2026年1月24日（星期六）

下午 2:30 – 5:30

地点：

丁胖子广场

主办单位：

• 中国民主党

• 中国民主教育基金会

欢迎所有关心中国未来、关心公共记忆与人权价值的朋友参加。

请转发、告知，让更多人知道这段不能被抹去的历史。

我们拒绝遗忘。

我们坚持记录。

我们与良知站在一起。