China Blues

He Told the Truth About China’s Tyranny

Liu Xiaobo, a Chinese intellectual who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2010, is serving an 11-year prison sentence in China on charges of "subversion of state power." The real reason, however, was Liu's role in drafting Charter '08, a document inspired by Charter 77, drafted 30 years earlier in Czechoslovakia by Vaclav Havel and other dissidents. Although Charter '08 was quite moderate in it's demand for reater economic and political transparency, it's publication upset the Communist Party leadership, resulting in a lengthy jail sentence. The following review of No Enemies, No Hatred: Selected Essay and Poems by Liu Xiaobo, by respected Sinologist Simon Leys, is a brief but good introduction to the thoughts of one of the most eloquent critics of Communist rule of China. The review, He Told the Truth About China’s Tyranny, appeared in the New York Review of Books.

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No Enemies, No Hatred: Selected Essays and Poemsby Liu Xiaobo, edited by Perry Link, Tienchi Martin-Liao, and Liu Xia, and with a foreword by Václav Havel Belknap Press/Harvard University Press, 366 pp., $29.95                                                  

Liu XiaThe Nobel Prize–winning writer Liu Xiaobo before his arrest, photographed by his wife, Liu Xia; from the exhibition ‘The Silent Strength of Liu Xia,’ which opened last fall at the Boulogne Museum outside Paris and will be on view at the Italian Academy for Advanced Studies at Columbia University February 9–March 1. Liu Xia’s photographs, which were smuggled out of China, show what she calls her ‘ugly babies’: mute dolls that, according to the curator Guy Sorman, represent ‘the Chinese people, and sometimes Liu Xia and her husband.’

Better than the assent of the crowd: The dissent of one brave man!—Sima Qian (145–90 BC)Records of the Grand HistorianTruth will set you free.—Gospel according to JohnThe economic rise of China now dominates the entire landscape of international affairs. In the eyes of political analysts and statesmen, China is seen as potentially “the world’s largest economic power by 2019.” Experts from financial institutions suggest an even earlier date for such a prognosis: “China,” one has said, “will become the largest economy in the world by 2016.” This fast transformation is rightly called “the Chinese miracle.” The general consensus, in China as well as abroad, is that the twenty-first century will be “China’s century.” International statesmen fly to Peking, while businessmen from all parts of the developed world are rushing to Shanghai and other provincial metropolises in the hope of securing deals. Europe is begging China to come to the rescue of its ailing currency.

All thinking people wish now to obtain at least some basic understanding of the deeper dynamics that underlie this sudden and stupendous metamorphosis: What are its true nature and significance? To what extent is it viable and real? Where is it heading? Bookshops are now submerged by a tidal wave of new publications attempting to provide information about China, and yet there is (it seems to me) one new book whose reading should be of urgent and essential importance, both for the specialist and for the general reader alike—the new collection of essays by Liu Xiaobo, judiciously selected, translated, and presented by very competent scholars, whose work greatly benefited from their personal acquaintance with the author.1

The award of the Nobel Peace Prize in 2010 brought the name of Liu Xiaobo to the attention of the entire world. Yet well before that, he had already achieved considerable fame within China, as a fearless and clearsighted public intellectual and the author of some seventeen books, including collections of poetry and literary criticism as well as political essays.2 The Communist authorities unwittingly vouched for the uncompromising accuracy of his comments. They kept arresting him for his views—four times since the Tiananmen massacre in June 1989. Now he is again in jail, since December 2008; though in poor health, he is subjected to an especially severe regime. As Pascal said, “Trust witnesses willing to sacrifice their lives,” and this particular witness happens to be exceptionally well qualified in other ways as well, both by the depth of his information and experience, and by his qualities of intelligence and moral fortitude.

 Born in 1955 in northeastern China, Liu truly belongs to the generation of “Mao’s children,” which, by an interesting paradox, eventually produced the boldest dissenters and most articulate activists in favor of democracy—for example, Wei Jingsheng, hero of the Democracy Wall episode in Peking between 1978 and 1979, who spent eighteen harsh years in prison before being exiled to the West.3 Liu Xiaobo pays frequent homage to these early pioneers. He was too young to participate in the Cultural Revolution, but this movement—ironically—had a positive impact upon his life.

Like most intellectuals, his parents, who were teachers, were deported to a collective farm in the countryside; having followed them there, Liu was mercifully deprived for several years of all conventional schooling. He was to appreciate it in retrospect: these years of lost schooling “allowed me freedom.” Escaping the indoctrination of Maoist pedagogy, he read at random a huge variety of books—all the printed matter he could lay his hands on—and thus discovered the principle that was to guide him from then on: one must think for oneself.

After Mao’s death, universities were at long last allowed to reopen; in 1977 Liu joined the first group of students admitted again into higher education, first in his home province, later on at Peking Normal University. He pursued studies in Chinese literature with great success; finally, eleven years later, after obtaining his doctorate, he was appointed to a teaching post in the same university. His original mind, vast intellectual curiosity, and gifts for expression ensured a brilliant academic career; quite early, he reached a large audience extending far beyond the classroom, and acquired the reputation of an enfant terrible in the Chinese cultural world.

In the debates over literature and ideas, his views were refreshingly free from dogmatic convention; yet at this early stage, he did not get involved in political issues. The turning point of his development took place in 1989, with the Tiananmen massacre on June 4 and its aftermath. Shortly before, Liu’s reputation as an original critic of ideas had brought him invitations abroad. Meanwhile, in Peking, the movement of political protest and demands for democratic reform were gathering momentum: a huge crowd of students together with their enthusiastic supporters and sympathizers had gathered and camped on Tiananmen Square, the very heart of the capital.

At that moment, Liu Xiaobo was in New York, having accepted an invitation to teach political science at Columbia’s Barnard College. Like many Chinese intellectuals before him, Liu had first idealized the West; however, his experiences, first in Europe and then in the United States, soon shattered his illusions. During a visit to the Metropolitan Museum in New York, he experienced a sort of epiphany that crystallized the turmoil of his latest self-questioning: he realized the shallowness of his own learning in the light of the fabulous riches of the diverse civilizations of the past, and simultaneously perceived the inadequacy of contemporary Western answers to mankind’s modern predicament. His own dream that Westernization could be used to reform China suddenly appeared to him as pathetic as the attitude of “a paraplegic laughing at a quadriplegic,” he confessed at the time:

My tendency to idealize Western civilization arises from my nationalistic desire to use the West in order to reform China. But this has led me to overlook the flaws of Western culture…. I have been obsequious toward Western civilization, exaggerating its merits, and at the same time exaggerating my own merits. I have viewed the West as if it were not only the salvation of China but also the natural and ultimate destination of all humanity. Moreover I have used this delusional idealism to assign myself the role of savior….I now realize that Western civilization, while it can be useful in reforming China in its present stage, cannot save humanity in an overall sense.If we stand back from Western civilization for a moment, we can see that it possesses all the flaws of humanity in general….If I, as a person who has lived under China’s autocratic system for more than thirty years, want to reflect on the fate of humanity or how to be an authentic person, I have no choice but to carry out two critiques simultaneously. I must:

1. Use Western civilization as a tool to critique China.

2. Use my own creativity to critique the West.

While Liu was still in New York, the student movement in Peking continued to develop, not realizing that it was now set on a collision course with the hard-line faction of the Communist leadership—the faction to which Deng Xiaoping was finally to give free rein. But Liu sensed that a crisis would soon be reached, and he made a grave and generous decision: he gave up the safety and comfort of his New York academic appointment and rushed back to Peking. He did not leave the square during the last dramatic days of the students’ demonstration; he desperately tried to persuade them that democratic politics must be “politics without hatred and without enemies,” and simultaneously, after martial law was imposed, he negotiated with the army in the hope of obtaining a peaceful evacuation of the square.
Thanks to his intervention, countless lives were saved, though in the end he could not prevent wider carnage—we still don’t know how many students, innocent bystanders, and even volunteer rescuers disappeared during the bloodbath of that final night.4 Liu himself was arrested in the street three days after the massacre and imprisoned without trial for the next two years. He came out of jail a changed man. He was dismissed from the university and banned from publishing and from giving any public lectures within China.

Owing to the Internet, however (“the Internet is truly God’s gift to the Chinese people,” as he was to say later on), he was able to develop a new career as a freelance commentator on Chinese society and culture. His articles and essays were published overseas in various Chinese-language periodicals (mostly in Hong Kong and Taiwan); and within China itself, he reached a wide readership through the Web, which still frustrates official censorship. His influence and prestige among Chinese dissidents culminated in December 2008 with his sponsorship of Charter 08—a collective document inspired by the example set thirty years earlier in Communist Czechoslovakia by Václav Havel and his friends, Charter 77.

Charter 08 is a model of moderation and cool reason: it spells out the basic principles and fundamental rights that should inspire China’s long-overdue political reform: an ideal of democracy, humanism, and nonviolence, institutionally guaranteed by separation of powers, freedom of opinion, “free and fair competition among political parties,” and the establishment of a federal republic (which, in fact, had already been envisioned a century ago, when the first Chinese republic was established).

There is nothing in such a program that should appear radical or inflammatory. Zhao Ziyang—former Chinese prime minister (1980–1987), former general secretary of the Communist Party (1987–1989), and the main architect of the first movement of reform and opening to the outside world in the post-Mao era—came in his final years to express views that are remarkably similar to those of Charter 08.5 At the end of his life, during his enforced internal exile, Zhao came to the conclusion—clearly expressed in his political testament—that the Chinese political system needed to be reformed:

“Dictatorship of the proletariat” has become a rigid, purely formal structure, protecting the tyranny of a minority—or of a single person; the way of the future, towards true modernization, is parliamentary democracy—on the Western model. This transformation would probably require a fairly long period of transition; yet it is feasible, as it is already shown by the examples of Taiwan and South Korea….6

All the essays of Liu Xiaobo included in the present volume deal with a period of twenty years—from Tiananmen to Charter 08. During this period, though several times arrested and detained without trial, Liu was active in freelance political journalism. Having no regular employment, he managed to make a precarious living with his pen.7

Some of the essays focus on specific events, from which the author draws deeper lessons; others address broader sociopolitical and cultural issues, which are then illustrated with examples drawn from current incidents.

A good example of the first type is provided by an important article exposing the horrendous case of the “Black Kilns.” (Later on, at Liu’s last trial, this was one of the six essays adduced as evidence of his criminal attempt at “subversion of state power.”) In May 2007, parents of children who had gone missing in Henan province reported their disappearance to courageous local television journalists. It turned out that operators of the brick kilns in Shanxi province had organized large kidnapping networks to supply their kilns with slave labor, and local authorities in two provinces had apparently been complicit in these criminal rackets.

The police proved singularly inept in their attempt to dismantle these abominable networks: only a small number of children were found and rescued—10 percent of the more than one thousand missing. Penal sanctions, which are usually ruthless in dealing with dissent from Party authority, were glaringly perfunctory and superficial: ninety-five Party members and public officials were involved, but they were merely subjected to “Party discipline,” and not to criminal charges. Higher officials only received “serious warning from the Party.” Liu concludes: “The mighty government, with all of its advantages and vast resources, is not ready to do battle with the Chinese underworld.” The main concern of the Communist Party, he writes, is to maintain its tight monopoly over all public power. Officials at every level are appointed, promoted, or dismissed at the exclusive will of a private group: the Party itself.

The first priority of officials is always to serve the higher-ups (because, in effect, this serves oneself) and not to serve the people below.

As for the judicial system—also used by the Party to protect its monopoly of power—it is utterly reluctant to tackle issues involving the alliance between the Party and the underworld:

In China the underworld and officialdom have interpenetrated and become one. Criminal elements have become officialized as officials have become criminalized. Underworld chiefs carry tittles in the National People’s Congress and the People’s Political Consultative Conference, while civil officials rely on the underworld to keep the lid on local society.12

Another essay deals with the “Land Problem.” In the Mao era, farmers lost their land and were reduced to virtual serfdom in the “communes.” They were bound to work on land that was no longer theirs. During the catastrophic madness of the Great Leap Forward the poverty of the farmers reached the point where they did not have food to eat or clothes to wear. In some places people were driven to cannibalism. More than forty million people starved to death during the great Mao-made famine of 1958–1962. Not long after Mao died in 1976, a “half-baked liberation” of the serfs took place: farmers were given the right not to own land but to use it, unless farmland needed to be “developed” and it then reverted to state property.

Officials wielding the power of the state and invoking “government-ownership of land” have colluded with businessmen all across our country…. The biggest beneficiaries of the resultant land deals, at all levels, have been the Communist regime and the power elite…. Farmers are the weakest among the weak. Without a free press and an independent judiciary, they have no public voice, no right to organize farmers’ associations, and no means of legal redress…. And that is why, when all recourse within the system…is stifled, people are naturally drawn to collective action outside the system….

Most of the major clashes that have broken out in China in recent years have pitted commoners against officials. Most have occurred at the grassroots in the countryside, and most have been about land. Local officials, protecting the vested interests of the power elite, have been willing to use a range of savage means, drawing on government violence as well as on the violence of the criminal underworld, to repress the uprisings.

Apart from Liu’s essays dealing with injustices and various forms of criminal abuses of power, other articles address more general questions: for instance, the meaning and implications of the rise of China as a great power, still a matter of great uncertainty. The very rapid growth of a market economy and people’s increased awareness of private property rights have generated enormous popular demand for more freedom, and this ultimately might have an effect on China’s international position. On the other hand, the Communist government’s jealous defense of its dictatorial system and of the special privileges of the power elite has become the biggest obstacle to movement in the direction of freedom…. As long as China remains a dictatorial one-party state, it will never “rise” to become a mature civilized country….

The Chinese Communists…are concentrating on economics, seeking to make themselves part of globalization, and are courting friends internationally precisely by discarding their erstwhile ideology.

At home, they defend their dictatorial system any way they can, [whereas abroad] they have become a blood-transfusion machine for a host of other dictatorships…. When the “rise” of a large dictatorial state that commands rapidly increasing economic strength meets with no effective deterrence from outside, but only an attitude of appeasement from the international mainstream, and if the Communists succeed in once again leading China down a disastrously mistaken historical road, the results will not only be another catastrophe for the Chinese people, but likely also a disaster for the spread of liberal democracy in the world. If the international community hopes to avoid these costs, free countries must do what they can to help the world’s largest dictatorship transform itself as quickly as possible into a free and democratic country.

Yet what hope is there for such a transformation to take place? The regime itself is rigid. After more than twenty years of “reform,” the only feature of Maoist ideology that is being unconditionally retained by the Communist Party is the principle of its absolute monopoly over political power. There is no prospect that any organization will be able to muster the political force sufficient to bring regime change anytime soon. Liu writes: “There is…no sign, within the ruling elite of an enlightened figure like Mikhail Gorbachev or Chiang Ching-kuo, who…helped turn the USSR and Taiwan toward democracy.” Civil society is unable to produce in the near term a political organization that might replace the Communist regime.

In an essay titled “To Change a Regime by Changing a Society” (also cited as evidence in his criminal trial), Liu spells out his hopes: political tyranny would remain, but the people would no longer be ignorant or atomized; there would be a new awareness of solidarity in the face of injustice, and a common indignation provoked by the blatant corruption and the various abuses of power committed by local authorities. There would be new advances in civic courage, greater awareness of people’s rights. Also greater economic independence fosters more freedom on the part of citizens to move, to acquire, and to share information.

The Internet in particular enables exchanges and diffusion of ideas in ways that largely escape government censorship; government control of thought and speech grows less and less effective.8 To become a free society, the only road for China can be that of a gradual improvement from the bottom up. This gradual transformation of society will eventually force a transformation of the regime.
However, in direct contradiction to such hopes, Liu also bleakly describes the spiritual desert of the urban culture in “post-totalitarian China.” The authorities, he writes, are enforcing a rigorous amnesia of the recent past. The Tiananmen massacre has been entirely erased from the minds of a new generation—while crude nationalism is being whipped up from time to time to distract attention from more disturbing issues. Literature, magazines, films, and videos all overflow with sex and violence reflecting “the moral squalor of our society.”

China has entered an Age of Cynicism in which people no longer believe in anything…. Even high officials and other Communist Party members no longer believe Party verbiage. Fidelity to cherished beliefs has been replaced by loyalty to anything that brings material benefit. Unrelenting inculcation of Chinese Communist Party ideology has…produced generations of people whose memories are blank….

The post-Tiananmen urban generation, raised with prospects of moderately good living conditions [have now as their main goals] to become an official, get rich, or go abroad…. They have no patience at all for people who talk about suffering in history…. A huge Great Leap famine? A devastating Cultural Revolution? A Tiananmen massacre? All of this criticizing of the government and exposing of the society’s “dark side” is, in their view, completely unnecessary. They prefer to use their own indulgent lifestyles plus the stories that officialdom feeds them as proof that China has made tremendous progress.

I know of Western liberals who, confronted with the extreme puritanism of the Maoist era, naively assumed that, after long repression, sexual liberation was bound to explode sooner or later and would act like dynamite and open the way toward a freer society. Now an “erotic carnival” (Liu’s words) of sex, violence, and greed is indeed sweeping through the entire country, but—as Liu describes it—this wave merely reflects the moral collapse of a society that has been emptied of all values during the long years of its totalitarian brutalization: “The craze for political revolution in decades past has now turned into a craze for money and sex.”

Some on the left attribute the present spiritual and moral emptiness of Chinese society to the spread of the market and to globalization, which are also blamed for China’s enormous corruption. On the contrary, Liu shows that the deep roots of today’s cynicism, hedonism, and moral bankruptcy must be traced back to the Mao era. It was then, at a time that leftist nostalgia now paints as one of moral purity, that the nation’s spirit suffered its worst devastation; the regime was 

antihumane and antimoral…. The cruel “struggle” that Mao’s tyranny infused throughout society caused people to scramble to sell their souls: hate your spouse, denounce your father, betray your friend, pile on a helpless victim, say anything to remain “correct.” The blunt, unreasoning bludgeons of Mao’s political campaigns, which arrived in an unending parade, eventually demolished even the most commonplace of ethical notions in Chinese life.

This pattern has abated in the post-Mao years, but it has far from disappeared. After the Tiananmen massacre, the campaign of compulsory amnesia once again forced people to betray their consciences in public shows of loyalty. “If China has turned into a nation of people who lie to their own consciences, how can we possibly build healthy public values?” And Liu concludes:

The inhumanity of the Mao era, which left China in moral shambles, is the most important cause of the widespread and oft-noted “values vacuum” that we observe today. In this situation sexual indulgence becomes a handy partner for a dictatorship that is trying to stay on top of a society of rising prosperity…. The idea of sexual freedom did not support political democracy so much as it harked back to traditions of sexual abandon in China’s imperial times…. This has been just fine with today’s dictators. It fits with the moral rot and political gangsterism that years of hypocrisy have generated, and it diverts the thirst for freedom into a politically innocuous direction.

In a last short piece written in November 2008, Liu looked “Behind the ‘China Miracle.’” Following the Tiananmen massacre, Deng Xiaoping attempted to restore his authority and to reassert his regime’s legitimacy after both had melted away because of the massacre. He set out to build his power through economic growth. As the economy began to flourish, many officials saw an opportunity to make sudden and enormous profits; their unscrupulous pursuit of private gain became the engine of the ensuing economic boom. The most highly profitable of the state monopolies have fallen into the hands of small groups of powerful officials. The Communist Party has only one principle left: any action can be justified if it upholds the dictatorship or results in greater spoils. Liu concludes:

In sum, China’s economic transformation, which from the outside can appear so vast and deep, in fact is frail and superficial…. The combination of spiritual and material factors that spurred political reform in the 1980s—free-thinking intellectuals, passionate young people, private enterprise that attended to ethics, dissidents in society, and a liberal faction within the Communist Party—have all but vanished. In their place we have a single-barreled economic program that is driven only by lust for profit.

One month after writing this, on December 8, 2008, Liu was arrested and eventually charged with “inciting subversion of state power”—whereas his only activity was, and has always been, simply to express his opinions. After a parody of a trial—which the public was not allowed to attend—he was sentenced to eleven years in jail on December 25, 2009.9 When, one year later, he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, Chinese authorities acted hysterically: his wife, his friends, and his acquaintances were all subjected to various forms of arbitrary detention to ensure that none of them would be able to go to Oslo to collect the prize on his behalf. Today his wife, Liu Xia, is in her second year of house arrest without charges. These dramatic measures had one clear historical precedent: in 1935, the Nazi authorities gave the same treatment to the jailed political dissenter Carl von Ossietsky.10

At the Oslo ceremony, an empty chair was substituted for the absent laureate. Within hours, the words “empty chair” were banned from the Internet in China—wherever they occurred, the entire machinery of censorship was automatically set in motion.

Foreign experts in various intelligence organizations are trying to assess the growing strength of China, politically, economically, and militarily. The Chinese leaders are most likely to have a clear view of their own power. If so, why are they so scared of a frail and powerless poet and essayist, locked away in jail, cut off from all human contacts? Why did the mere sight of his empty chair at the other end of the Eurasian continent plunge them into such a panic?

→1Two books, actually; a similar (yet not identical) collection, in French, appeared earlier in 2011: Liu Xiaobo, La philosophie du porc et autres essais , selected, translated, and introduced by Jean-Philippe Béja (Paris: Gallimard). Since the contents of both volumes do not completely overlap, one would wish for a third collection that could combine both. For more information on Liu himself—his life, activities, arrest, and trial, see Perry Link, Liu Xiaobo's Empty Chair (New York Review Books e-book, 2011). ↩

2A new collection of his poetry, translated by Jeffrey Yang, will be published as June Fourth Elegies in April by Graywolf. ↩

3Wei Jingsheng (born in 1950) roamed through China as a Red Guard during the Cultural Revolution: he discovered then the abyss of misery and black despair in which the Maoist insanity had plunged the countryside. This early revelation eventually led him to post on the Democracy Wall his momentous manifesto " The Fifth Modernization: Democracy" (1978) . He was immediately arrested (advocating democracy in China is a crime) and spent eighteen years in jail, suffering very harsh treatment—in turns, hard labor and solitary confinement. Freed in 1997, he was forced into exile, and lives now in the West. On this subject see Wei Jingsheng, The Courage to Stand Alone: Letters from Prison and Other Writings ( Viking, 1997). The book was reviewed by Liu Binyan, The New York Review , July 17, 1997. ↩
4On orders of authorities, many unidentified bodies were secretly buried or burned. State-enforced amnesia suppressed immediately the entire atrocity with frightful efficiency. Though the outside world was stunned at first, its memory did not last very long. Yet—as Fang Lizhi recalled here not long ago ( The New York Review , November 10, 2011)—at the height of the "Arab Spring," Colonel Qaddafi thought that it was right to pay retrospective homage to the wisdom of the Tiananmen butchers. ↩

5Zhao Ziyang had opposed the martial law orders that were to lead directly to the Tiananmen massacre; as a result, Deng Xiaoping had him dismissed from office and put under house arrest till the end of his life (2005). During his final years, Zhao made a secret recording on tape of his memoirs; this recording was authenticated, introduced, and distributed abroad by his close collaborator and secretary Bao Tong. See the American edition, Prisoner of the State: The Secret Journal of Premier Zhao Ziyang, translated from the Chinese and edited by Bao Pu, Renee Chiang, and Adi Ignatius, with a foreword by Roderick MacFarquhar (Simon and Schuster, 2009). The book was reviewed by Jonathan Mirsky, The New York Review , July 2, 2009. ↩

6"...Given the reality in China, we need a relatively long period of transition. The experiences of other Asian nations are worthy of our attention in this regard. For example, territories and nations such as Taiwan and South Korea have gradually made the transition from their old systems to a parliamentary system, and have had positive experiences that we would benefit from studying." Zhao Ziyang, Prisoner of the State , p. 271. ↩

7 He said, "The Internet is like a magic engine, and it has helped my writing to erupt like a geyser. Now I can even live off what I write." ↩

8 There are more than 450 million Internet users in China. This entails political possibilities that terrify the authorities. Liu says, "Now, with my computer, I am connected with the entire world in a way that used to be inconceivable. The computer makes information gathering, consultation with others, composition of essays, and submission of manuscripts all much easier.... The Internet has brought new strength to public opinion.... [It] has made possible a kind of ‘freedom of assembly' in cyberspace." ↩

9 On December 23, 2011, the writer Chen Wei, who had been arrested in February after posting essays online calling for freedom of speech and other political reforms, was convicted of the same crime of "inciting of subversion of state power" and sentenced, following a two-hour trial, to nine years in prison. ↩

10 Other Nobel laureates were also prevented from going to Oslo: Andrei Sakharov, Lech Wałesa, and Aung San Suu Kyi were able at least to delegate personal representatives to attend the ceremony on their behalf. Boris Pasternak had to renounce the prize in 1958, but stayed out of prison. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn was not imprisoned after he was awarded the prize in 1970, and he accepted it after he left the Soviet Union in 1974. ↩

11 The reader will find that I pose a question of my own about a different country in the Letters section of this issue. ↩

Chinese propaganda and the Tibetan self-immolations

When a dog is cornered it tends to bark ridiculously. I was reminded of this when reading the Global Times editorial of January 11, 2012 concerning another three Tibetans who have committed self-immolations in recent days. How else can we interpret its effort to blatantly ignore the real cause of the self-immolations by Tibetans by questioning their power of judgment and virtually calling them tools of the West?

via weblog.savetibet.org

This commentary, written by Bhuchung Tsering, vice president for the International Campaign for Tibet, is in response to a recent editorial in the Global Times that sought to misplace the cause for the recent spate of self-immolations in Tibetan areas in China.

Spring Festival Letter From Home

Below is my rough translation of a letter by Geng He, the wife of imprisoned rights lawyer Gao Zhisheng, who was recently sent to prison for three years for allegedly violating the terms of his probation. This is a dubious charge as Gao has been in police custody for the past three years. The letter, written as the Year of the Dragon approaches, expresses Geng He's pain at being separated from her husband for the fourth consecutive Spring Festival. The Chinese version of the letter follows the English.

For more about Gao Zhisheng, see the following stories from my web site:

Missing Gao Zhisheng

Beijing's Mafia Justice For Lawyer They Won't Lock Up But Can't Set Free

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Spring Festival Letter From Home

Zhisheng, How are you!

I don’t know whether or not you received the first letter I wrote to you on New Year’s Day?

In two weeks, the Spring Festival will be here. Although we are living in the United States, we can feel the holiday atmosphere in China. All sorts of Chinese couplets, lanterns and other Spring Festival products are displayed in conspicuous places in the supermarket for sale. Seeing these festival things, I am distracted and feel that I’m actually in China; conversely, I also sadly realize that I and the children are in America, without family or you beside us. This is the fourth consecutive Spring Festival that you’ve not been by my side.

I remember on August 15 five years ago, the police suddenly moved into our home, and I was completely terrified, not knowing what had happened. At the time, after I heard that you’d been kidnapped by the police, I didn’t know what to do. Without you, my life sank into darkness. Even worse, each day I had to live under the eyes of the police. After a while, my ears developed a supernatural ability. I could distinguish the sound of the footsteps of each person going up from the first floor to the sixth floor, and I could also distinguish the sound of the footsteps of strangers, and was even better able to identify the sound of the footsteps of the police. Even now, as soon as I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall my heart shakes with terror, just as back then. Since then, I’ve constantly worried about our safety and whereabouts. As a lawyer, in order to fight for the rights of others, you’ve lost your own safety and freedom. What kind of world is this?

In March 2009, I escaped with the children to the United States, coming to this free country. America is exactly the way people describe it, a free country blessed by God, a heaven on earth. However, you have descended into a black prison with no freedom, and so even though we here are in a heaven on earth, we’re still not happy. We’re in this free country, but we’re not free to speak to you or communicate with you, or even to see your face. Living in this free country, although I now have heard about your whereabouts, my heart remains in a black whirlpool from which I cannot extricate myself. They have locked you up  in a remote place without a common language or culture, hoping to use loneliness of living in solitude to beat you and break you.

Now, my only hope is that you, living in that prison in the small town at the end of the earth, can receive our letter and card. I also hope that those people who care about you, will write their concerns for you on a postcard and mail it to you every Christmas, every New Years, every occasion when families reunite, and every joyous occasion. I know that these letters and cards will bring boundless love, support and strength to you while you’re living in loneliness and suffering.
Zhisheng, at the present, we can only be reunited with you in our dreams. One day, however, you will get your freedom, and we will really be reunited.

Enclosed are photographs of the children. I will do my best to let you know all the news about them.

Geng He

January 10, 2012

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春节家书 智晟，你好！元旦给你写了第一封信不知收到否？ 还有半个月春节就要到了，即使身在美国，我们也能感到中国春节的气氛。各式中国对联、灯笼、等春节货品已经摆在超市的显眼处贩卖，看到这些节日物品我恍惚觉着自己身在中国，转而又悲哀地感到，实际上我是只身和孩子在美国，身边没有家人和你,这已是连着第四个春节你不在我身边了。 记得，五年前的八月十五日，警察突然住进咱家，我惊恐不已，不知发生什么事情，当知道你被警察绑架后，我更不知如何是好。没有了你，我的生活一下子没入黑暗。更糟的是，我每天还要在警察的眼皮底下生活，时间久了，我的耳朵练就出超常的听力。我能听出一楼到六楼的每户人家的上楼脚步声，也能听出陌生人的上楼声，更能听出警察的上楼声。直到现在，一旦听到楼道口的脚步声，我还会像当初一样紧张得心惊肉跳。自那以后，我无时不刻地为你的安全和下落担忧。作为律师，你为了争取他人的权利，却失去了自己的安全和自由，这是什么世道啊！
 2009年3月，我带着孩子逃到了美国，来到了这个自由的国家。美国确实如人所说的，是个神所护佑的自由国家，是人间天堂。可是，你身陷没有自由的黑狱中，我们就是住在天堂也不幸福。身在这个自由的国家我们却不能自由地 与你通话和通信，更见不到你的面。身在这个自由的国家，虽然听说了你的下落，我的心还是在黑暗漩涡不能自拔。他们把你关在语言不通文化不同的偏远地区，是想用与世隔绝的孤独击垮你。 
现在，只期望天边小镇狱中的你能收到我们的信和问候卡。还期望所有关心你的人们，能够在每一个每一个圣诞节，每一个新年，每一个团圆之夜，每一个喜庆时刻，将他们的关心写在一封明信片上，寄给你。我知道，这些薄薄的信和卡片会给孤独苦难中的你带来无尽的关爱、支持和力量。     智晟，现在我们只能在梦中和你团聚了。将来总有一天，你会得到自由，我们会真正地团聚。 附上孩子照片，我会尽可能的让你知道孩子的点点滴滴。 
耿和
1/10/2012

The first self-immolations of 2012 took place in Tibet today

Free Tibet reports that two Tibetans comitted self-immolations today, the first such acts for 2012. So far, 14 people have done this since last year, with a total of 15 since 2009.

6 January 2012

Fiery Tibetan protests will continue until the West acts

The first self-immolations of 2012 took place in Tibet today.

Two people set themselves on fire in Tibet this afternoon – the 13th and 14 th acts of self-immolation against Chinese oppression since March of last year [1]. An eye-witness account reports that a man set himself on fire near Kirti Monastery in Ngaba Town at around 2.50pm (local time) today. The witness saw the act from a rooftop across the street.

Secondary sources claim that the man, believed to be a lay person, was heard calling for the return of the Dalai Lama before Chinese forces extinguished the flames and removed him. His well-being and whereabouts are unknown.

The second person set themselves on fire nearby at around the same time. A different eye-witness claims that this person died at the scene and their body was taken away by Chinese authorities.

Free Tibet Director Stephanie Brigden said: “These latest self-immolations confirm that what we are currently witnessing in Tibet is a sustained and profound rejection of the Chinese occupation. It is a damning indictment of the international community that 14 people, in different parts of Tibet, have now chosen to set themselves on fire and the international community has failed to respond.

“We can only expect that such acts of protest will continue for as long as world leaders turn a blind eye to the desperate situation in Tibet.

“People in Ngaba continue to live under security restrictions. Chinese authorities are trying to control all communications. There has been no internet access in the town since the first self-immolation in March 2011 [2] and local people are fearful that their telephones are bugged.

“Despite this, many brave Tibetans continue to disseminate information about what is happening at great personal risk, while the UK government remains silent.

“Next week the UK government will be face-to-face with Chinese officials at the UK-China Human Rights Dialogue. Free Tibet has long believed that this is a cosmetic exercise. The timings of these acts must surely persuade the British government to take a firm line on human rights with China and show that this is not the case.”

Notes to editor:

For further information and interviews please contact Free Tibet’s Director Stephanie Brigden E: [email protected] T: +44 (0)20 7324 4605 M: +44 (0)7971 479515

The Red String

On January 1, 2012, Geng He wrote a very moving letter to her husband, human rights lawyer Gao Zhisheng. Gao, held incommunicado by the Chinese authorities for the past 20 months, has been sent back to jail, according to a report on December 16 by the official Xinhua News Agency. What's puzzling is that the court was quoted as saying that the decision was justified because Gao had “seriously violated probation rules” several times. It would have been quite difficult for Gao to have violated the terms of his probation as he has been under police detention for the past 20 months. 

Below is my rough translation of Ms. Geng He's letter. For more information about Gao visit my recent blog postings here and here. To see my artcile on Gao, plese go to: Beijing's Mafia justice for the lawyer they won't lock up but can't set free. 

Zhisheng,

How are you?

Today is New Year’s Day. I and the children just attended the New Year’s celebration at church. The people all around us were wearing splendid holiday attire and holding each other’s hands as they sang hymns, their faces beaming with the festive holiday spirit. During the intermission, everyone was smiling and talking, and expressing regards to one another, while children ran after one another. Every corner of the church was full of the happy voices of the adults and the children’s laughing and playing. However, I was absent-minded, unable to blend in with everyone’s happiness. Yesterday, I got the news from your elder brother that you have been sent to a prison in a remote part of Xinjiang, and my heart was heavy with sadness.

During these past 20 months, we have been on tenterhooks, running everywhere to get news about you. But there has been no news at all. During my search for you, I often had a fantasy that as soon as I had word about you, I could relax my heart, and that I would be able to peacefully play and study with the children. However, after I got the news about you yesterday, I could not relax my heart, which was like a twisted piece of dough. They originally gave you an illegal “three year sentence that was suspended for five years,” but during these past five years, you have always been in their hands, and in the end they said you violated your probation. Why did they do this? Why?

Right now I want to break through all the barriers to be by your side, I really want to rent an apartment next to your prison and live there, so that each month I can visit you right on time. However, because of our children, I cannot realize all of my aspirations.

My mother and father have lived in Xinjiang for 46 years, and I never heard of this place called Shaya County. It’s too remote and no one knows about it or cares about it. Now, this small town at the end of the earth has has actually become the place of our greatest concern, a place we yearn for. Our whole family has begun to carefully search for any scrap of information about this desert town, hoping to learn everything about this place.

Tianyu’s English is quite good; I teach him Chinese at home. After class he learns swimming, ice skating and other extracurricular activities. He likes to study and has a deep interest in science and technology, the universe and math. On Saturdays, I take him to the Aerospace Museum, all sorts of science and technology museums and the library. 

I often say to him: “Mama is very grateful to you, because your interests and hobbies have forced me to take you to the places you want to go to, making me a better and better driver. He replied; “That’s right! In the beginning, you drove on small roads, but now you drive on the highways, and you’re even able to drive in front of the eyes of the police.” What he’s saying is that I’m no longer afraid of the police. Before, I would get nervous when I saw police, because while I was in China, I was often bullied by the police, which left me paranoid.

Gege is already accustomed to her life and studies here. Her grades are all As, but she has to work a bit harder on her spoken English. This year she will attend university, and she has already applied to several schools. In her own words: “The schools I’m applying to, will give you and Baba face.” Gege has also gotten her driver’s license.

Tianyu once woke up in the middle of a dream, and said to me crying: “Mama, Baba didn’t hold my hand, and I lost him.”  I repeated these words over and over again to myself.

Do you still remember what Tianyu said when he was three? “I have a red string in my heart, and no matter where Baba goes, the red string will be tied to him.”

Each one of us has a red string connected to you, no matter where you go. Even if you go to the ends of the earth, we will remain connected to you. This time we will hold your hand tightly, and we won’t lose you, or break contact.

I’ll write letters to you often, and I look forward to receiving your letters. I’ll send you photos of the children.

Hope you’re well.

Geng He

January 1, 2012

==

Original Chinese Version

智晟：

你好。 

今天是元旦，我正和孩子参加教堂的新年祝福。周围的人们都穿着节日的盛装，手拉着手唱圣歌，欢乐的节日气氛洋溢在人们的脸上。休息时，人们互相谈笑着，问候着，孩子们相互追逐着，大人们的欢乐声和孩子们的嬉戏声充满了教堂的每个角落。可是，我却感觉恍惚，不能融在这欢乐之中。昨天我从大哥那里得到你被关进新疆边远监狱的消息，心情沉重得像吊了铅块。 

近20个月来，我们一直提心吊胆地到处打听你的消息，可一直杳无音讯。在寻找你的过程中，我常常幻想，一旦有了你的消息，我的心就能放下，就能平静地和孩子一起游玩和学习。可昨天得到你的消息后，我的心不仅不能放下，还拧成麻花。当初他们非法对你“判三年缓五年”，可这五年你一直在他们的手心里，到头来他们倒说你违反了规定，这是为什么！为什么呀！！

 此时我多想冲破一切困难到你身边，多想在你的监狱旁边租个房子住下，好每月按时准点探望你。可是，为了孩子，我的心愿不能两全。

 我的父母在新疆生活了46年，都没听说过沙雅县这个地方，它太偏远了，远得无人知晓和关心。如今，这个天边的小镇却成了我们最关心、向往的地方，我们全家开始仔细搜索沙雅的各种信息，想知道那里的所有情况。 

天昱的英语很好，中文我在家教，课后学了游泳、滑冰等兴趣班。他喜欢读书，还对科技、宇宙及数字兴趣浓厚。周六带他去航天馆和各种科技馆及图书馆。 我常对他说：“妈妈非常感谢你，是你的兴趣，爱好，促使着妈妈带你到你想去的地方，让妈妈的车开得越来越好。”他说：“是呀！刚开始在小路上开，现在在高速上开，到时就可以在警察眼前开。”他的意思是，我现在不怕警察了。以前我见了警察就紧张，是因为在国内常被警察欺负而留下的后遗症。 

格格已经适应这里的生活及学习，学习成绩都是A，不过她的英语口语还需要努力。今年她就要上大学了，已经报了几个大学，按她的话说：“我报的大学要让你和爸爸脸上能说的过去。”格格也考上了驾照。 

天昱一次在梦中惊醒，哭着说：“妈妈，爸爸没有拉着我的手，丢了爸爸。”我反复自语着孩子说的这句话。 

你还记得天昱快三岁时说的话吗？“我心里有个红线，不管爸爸走到哪里，红线就连到哪里。” 

我们心里都有一根红线连着你，不管你到哪里，就是海角天涯，我们也要和你相连。这次我们可要紧紧抓住你的手，不要丢了你，断了联系。 我会经常给你写信，也盼望收能收到你的来信，给你寄去孩子的照片。

祝好！ 

耿和

1月1号2012年

零八宪章: 人类的良心——哈维尔先生永垂不朽！

人类的良心——哈维尔先生永垂不朽！

via 08charterbbs.blogspot.com

Here is the Chinese version of Vaclav Havel, the Conscience of Humanity, which was written by Signers of Charter 08 in China.

Vaclav Havel, the Conscience of Humanity

Vaclav Havel, the Conscience of Humanity

by Signers of Charter 08 in China

News of the passing on December 18, 2011, of Vaclav Havel, the distinguished playwright and moving force behind “Charter 77,” brought shock and pain to Chinese citizens who three years earlier had signed Charter 08, a manifesto calling for democracy and human rights. While we join people around the world in grieving since that darkest of days, our minds are filled as well with indelible memories of Mr. Havel and with the immense respect that we feel for this great defender of universal human rights.We express our sincere condolences to his family and wish, in addition, that the more than ten million citizens of the Czech Republic will know that we join them in their grieving.The loss of Mr. Havel is not only a severe loss to the Czech Republic. It is a loss that extends through the world, a loss to all defenders of freedom, democracy, and human rights.

Vaclav Havel grew up under communist dictatorship in Czechoslovakia and, over many years, persevered in a position of opposition to oppressive government and support of human dignity and basic human rights.He was active during the “Prague Spring” that surprised the world in 1968. In 1975, after he released an open letter to Czechoslovakia’s ruler, GustavHusek, that brilliantly evoked the stultifying atmosphere of life under dictatorship, Husek’s regime subjected him to harassment and persecution. Still, he persisted with his ideals. In 1976 he and some colleagues who shared his vision drafted, and in early 1977 published, their Charter 77, which called upon their country to honor the human-rights provisions of the Helsinki Accords of 1975. Havel received a prison sentence of forty months for this initiative. In 1979 he was sentenced again, this time to four and a half years, for “subversion of the republic.” These imprisonments established him as the spiritual leader of the movement for democracy and human rights in Czechoslovakia and established Charter 77 as the movement’s primary emblem. In 1989, when the Soviet empire in Eastern Europe crumbled, a triumphant“velvet revolution” carried Havel into the presidency of a new Czechoslovak Republic. In 1993, when the country divided into separate Czech and Slovak republics, Havel was elected president of the Czech Republic and served until 2003. For the people of Czechoslovakia, to see the departure of a man who did so much to effect a peaceful transition to democracy is obviously a tremendous loss.
But Havel’s influence extended far beyond his own country.He was unrelenting in his censure of dictators or autocrats of any stripe and was equally unstinting in his moral support of anyone who spoke for freedom, democracy, and basic human rights. He supported NATO in its removal of the dictatorial Milosevic regime in Yugoslavia and also spoke in support of the American decision to send troops to end the autocratic rule of Saddam Hussein in Iraq. For China, he leaves a long record of moral support of democracy and human rights:

- He condemned the June Fourth massacre. In 1989, when the communist regime used tanks and machine guns to suppress a peaceful student democracy movement in Beijing, Havel went to the airwaves to denounce this cowardly violence in the strongest of terms. In 1999, on the tenth anniversary of the massacre, when students at Harvard University organized a memorial session, Havel—now as the president of his country—wrote an open letter expressing his support for democracy in China.

- He stoutly supported Charter 08 and its call for democracy and human rights. In December, 2008, Liu Xiaobo, Zhang Zuhua and a number of other Chinese, inspired by Charter 77 and by the counsels of their own consciences, drafted and published Charter 08 calling for “freedom, democracy, human rights, and constitutional government.” Havel immediately expressed his strong support of this initiative. On December 19, 2008 he wrote in The Wall Street Journal comparing Charter 08 to Charter 77 and praising its authors not only for their stand on democracy and human rights but also for their wisdom in calling for “better environmental protection, a bridging of the rural-urban divide, better provision of social security, and a serious effort to reconcile with human-rights abuses committed in decades past.”He referred to “the broad appeal of the ideas” of the Charter, as evidenced in the wide range of Chinese people who signed it.He denounced the repression of Liu Xiaobo, Zhang Zuhua and others who had worked on the charter and wrote that “the Chinese government should learn well the lesson of the Charter 77 movement: that intimidation, propaganda campaigns, and repression are no substitute for reasoned dialogue.”Later he wrote in The New York Times that “Charter 08 has articulated an alternative vision of China, challenging the official line that any decisions on reforms are the exclusive province of the state… It has encouraged younger Chinese to become politically active, and has boldly made the case for the rule of law and constitutional multiparty democracy.” On March 11, 2009, at an international human-rights film festival in Prague, Havel represented the selection committee of the Homo Homini Human Rights Prize in bestowing the prize upon Liu Xiaobo and all who signed Charter 08.

- He called for the release of Liu Xiaobo and all political prisoners. During 2008-2010, when the Beijing regime detained, arrested, sentenced, and imprisoned Liu Xiaobo for his part in Charter 08, Mr. Havel followed events continuously and closely.In an “Open Letter to President Hu Jintao” on January 6, 2010, he called Liu Xiaobo’s prison sentence “shameful” and wrote:

There is nothing subversive to state security or damaging to future prosperity when citizens act, guided by their own will and according to their best knowledge and conscience, or when they associate among themselves to discuss and express peacefully their concerns and visions about the future development of their society. On the contrary, a country's material and spiritual future is undermined when its citizens are not allowed to act, associate, think and speak freely.
and:

We are also asking you and your government to end the house arrests and police surveillance which have been imposed on other Charter 08 signatories. We call upon you and your government to end the criminalization of free speech and to release all prisoners of conscience

- He nominated Liu Xiaobo for the Nobel Peace Prize. When Chinese authorities sentenced Liu Xiaobo to eleven years in prison, Mr. Havel expressed his outrage in several ways. First he conveyed his sympathy and encouragement to Liu’s wife, Liu Xia; next he berated the Beijing regime for its moral failure in repressing human rights; and then he led an international initiative, involving Bishop Tutu from South Africa, the Dalai Lama, and other respected figures in the world, to join in nominating Liu Xiaobo for the Nobel Peace Prize.In January, 2010, the group wrote a joint letter to the prize committee in Oslo, and eight months later, on September 20, Havel and others published an op ed in The New York Times expressing the hope that the prize could go to the imprisoned Liu.

When the prestigious award did indeed go to Liu, it had a tremendous effect in raising the visibility and influence, both within China and internationally, of Charter 08 and the cause of Chinese democracy and human rights.The prize helped to establish Liu Xiaobo as the spiritual leader of China’s movement for democracy and human rights and caused Charter 08 to be seen as its core document and primary emblem.

For all these reasons we feel the passing of Vaclav Havel to be a huge loss to the movement for democracy and human rights in China.

And yet, whether one speaks of the Czech people, of the Chinese people, or of all of the people on the earth, the spiritual legacy that Vaclav Havel has left behind is limitless in its resources and inexhaustible in the avenues through which it will continue to nurture human life.Havel made sacrifices to build human rights and democracy in his own country, supported human rights and democracy throughout the world, and wrote about the human spirit and the human conscience with an eloquence so powerful that no reader can doubt that he was writing about—and for—every human being, everywhere.

In grief, we here offer him our final salute. Esteemed Mr. Havel:

--The universal human rights that you defended are identical to those that we defend.
--The freedom and democracy that you pursued are the very ones that we pursue.
--Your Charter 77 and our Charter 08 are iron cousins.

We pledge to you that we will persist with Charter 08 in China and with the ideals of democracy and human rights that you and we share.We call upon our fellow citizens who feel a similar sense of crisis, responsibility, and mission, whether they are inside the government or not, and regardless of their social status, to set aside small differences, to embrace the broad goals of the Charter 08 citizens' movement, and to join in bringing a great new day to Chinese society.We are confident that the dream of a free and democratic China, under a constitution and the rule of law, is achievable in the not-too-distant future.

Rest in peace, dear Mr. Havel.You are not alone.

Missing Gao Zhisheng - WSJ.com

Last Friday, China's state-run news media announced that human rights lawyer Gao Zhisheng would return to prison to complete his full three-year sentence, supposedly because he violated the terms of his probation. The news was a surprise because the police have illegally detained Mr. Gao for the last 20 months, making it difficult for him to violate anything.

via online.wsj.com

This article is a summary of my recent interview in the United States with Geng He, the wife of human rights lawyer Gao Zhisheng. Gao was 'sent back" to prison last week for violating the terms of his probation. Critics have said the decision shows the arbitrariness of the Chinese legal system as Mr. Gao has been in police custody for the past 20 months. In the interview, Ms. Geng describes the family's harrowing escape from China in 2012, and their pain in the absence of any information about Mr. Gao since he was abducted in 2009 shortly after their departure.

Wang Lihong released from prison

Wang Lihong (王荔蕻), a rights activist and citizen journalist from Beijing, was released on the morning of December 20 from the Chaoyang District Detention Center in Beijing, where she served a nine-month sentence for “picking quarrels and provoking troubles.” The following background information was published on the web site of China Human Rights Defenders.

Wang’s son, Qi Jianxiang (齐健翔) posted a public message on Twitter Tuesday asking supporters not to greet Wang outside the detention center, saying that his mother would temporarily be staying at “another place to recuperate for a couple of days.

Wang began her rights defense activities after her retirement, advocating women’s rights and the rights of vulnerable groups. She won the respect of the rights defense community, whose many members respectfully address her as “Elder sister”.

Wang was detained on March 21, 2011, tried by the Chaoyang District People’s Court of Beijing on August 12, and convicted on September 9. The prosecution’s charge was based on Wang’s alleged  role in organizing a protest outside a courthouse in Fujian on April 16, 2010, where the “Three Netizens,” Fan Yanqiong (范燕琼), You Jingyou (游精佑), and Wu Huaying (吴华英), were tried after they helped expose a police cover-up of a rape and a murder. The government alleged that the protest resulted in disorder inside the courtroom and traffic confusion in the area.

The following article about Wang Lihong was written by Ai Xiaoming and was translated by me.

“So Free, So Rich, So Beautiful!”—Missing Wang Lihong | Human Rights in China 中国人权

[Translation by Paul Mooney, Abridgment by Human Rights in China]

It has been more than 100 days since Wang Lihong lost her freedom. It’s really an unimaginable thing. She and I live in the same world, but Lihong not only is being held in a detention center, but has also been formally arrested. She was originally charged with “picking quarrels and provoking troubles” (寻衅滋事). The charge was later changed to “gathering a crowd to disturb social order” (聚众扰乱社会秩序) [sic].

In the middle of the night, I often think about friends who have lost their freedom. Among these, for me, Lihong has been my closest sister. She is two years younger than I am, about 56. She has a serious herniated disc and needs a metal brace for support; she is also very nearsighted. In her own words: “When I take off my glasses, I’m just like a blind person.” But at the detention center, you weren’t allowed to bring in a back brace and you had to take off your eye glasses. Dear Lihong, how are you able to cope with the hazy world around you? Lihong, who once suffered from depression and insomnia, how many sleepless nights must she now endure? Was she prepared for this long detention and even arrest? Will she be filled with trust when she thinks of us, her friends, confident that we would run to help her as she would for those who were suffering? And how disappointed will she be in our inability to help her!

Let’s look back forty years, to a time when Lihong was an educated Beijing youth sent down to Yan’an. The 18-year-old young woman walking on the winding mountain road covered in loess dust suddenly heard a sound. A loudspeaker on the highway was playing a piece of Western violin music. In her memoirs she wrote: “At that moment, my soul was touched. Although at that time, my clothes had patches upon patches, a straw rope was tied around my waist, my back was bent over from the load, and I had just four fen [less than one cent] in my pocket, my soul felt so free, so rich, and so beautiful! I was bathed in the brilliant sunlight of humanity’s highest intelligence, immersed in the most beautiful music mankind had been able to create! The music was so familiar, so intimate—it has always stayed in my heart and never left me, but was waiting to be roused to take flight. It was magnificent beyond comparison!”

Lihong was the daughter of a general. Her father was a member of the Eighth Route Army1 during the War of Resistance against the Japanese, and worked for the navy after 1949. As a young girl, she also learned to play the violin. She wrote: “As I stood on that noisy dirt path in northern Shaanxi, my violin was lying motionless and cold in my cave dwelling; its bowstring gnawed away by a mouse. The fingers that I had placed into position each day had become impossibly stiff. I had not opened the violin case for a very long time, but my heart was incredibly sensitive to the dream-like sound, the sacred and beautiful music made by the violin strings.”

Lihong did not pursue arts. After spending three years in a production brigade in Yan’an, she passed the entrance exam for admission to the Chinese literature department of Yan’an University, and returned to Beijing after graduation. In the 1980s, Lihong worked in a government office in Beijing. In the spring of 1989, like cadres in many other government units, she marched with the protesters. She has kept, to this day, the clothes she wore during those demonstrations, which are emblazoned with the words: “Long Live Freedom.” One can well imagine why Lihong left her job at the beginning of 1991.

The world of mortals surges on, and our destiny rises and falls. Lihong was materially satisfied but not happy, until a few years ago, when she, Laohu Miao,2 and others got together and launched a volunteer effort to help petitioners who came to Beijing but had no place to stay. Lihong reawakened that soul that had longed to be “so free, so rich, and so beautiful,” and recovered the ideals, friendships, and intrinsic richness of her youth.

Lihong drove me to visit the painter Yan Zhengxue. We chatted in the car about our experiences during our lives. I got to know her on the Internet because she and my friend, Wang Keqin, had been following the death of Li Shulian, a female petitioner from Shandong.3 Lihong had posted exhaustive details about the case on the Internet, and she personally traveled to Shandong to gather information. There was also the Deng Yujiao incident4—she and Tufu5 had gone to Badong County6 to get information. One could say that the path of Lihong’s life was changed because of the Internet. The Internet has coalesced people’s ideals, and enabled those who are concerned about the fate of the disadvantaged groups to go from online to offline, and to strive to change the actual destiny of people.

The 23 letters Wang Lihong wrote to Sun Chunlan, the Party secretary of Fujian Province
In order to write Lihong’s story, I spent yesterday reading her blog. Many people witnessed her running around trying to raise concern about the Three Netizens of Fujian.7 But how did this all come about?

In September 2009, Lihong was in Geneva, Switzerland, taking part in a human rights training program. At the time, the Three Netizens, who had helped Yan Xiaoling’s8 mother produce a video [about her daughter’s rape and death], had already been arrested. She wrote on her blog that day:
I once heard Laohu Miao tell a story that sounded like a children’s fairytale. A person in Fujian set aside a portion of his small salary every month in case one day a person, facing a tragedy, came to him for help. I really couldn’t believe it. Could there still be such a pure person today?

I really couldn’t believe this. Under our special national condition today—where filth is painted as something pure and holy, the corrupt are hyped as heroes, and morality has already reached a bottomless low—are there actually people who persist in doing good despite being called foolish!
You Jingyou,9 I really wish you weren’t in there but here in Geneva. The air is clean here, and the tree-shaded roads fill people with dreams. You Jingyou, you’re just a high-level bridge engineer, you’re not God! Please don’t be so good; please don’t make us feel so ashamed!

Later, in her letters to Sun Chunlan, the Party secretary of Fujian Province, she wrote:
Frankly speaking, the first time I heard his story, I was a little skeptical. I’ve met too many swindlers in my life, and was tricked too many times. But then I saw and heard: You Jingyou was really someone who put into practice his belief that kindness can provide warmth to others, and that love can change society. I was very moved by him.

In the masses, Lihong is an ordinary person, and the same is true for You Jingyou. These two are not famous scholars, artists, or distinguished people with high social status. Nor are they members of legal circles. But because they met on the Internet, they began to practice what they preached by taking up the responsibilities of a citizen. There are probably very few experts and scholars in China who dare speak out for the people from the lower rungs of society. But the participation of countless ordinary citizens as netizens has brought forth a new form of politics. This is the beautiful life that this country has never had before but that has begun, with citizens joining together through the Internet and playing a role in public affairs. Regardless of their social status, people are gathering under the name of “netizens.” There is no need for knowing each other or using their real names. They only need a shared interest.

Instead of a sense of powerlessness and apathy, netizens believe that an ordinary person can achieve something—even if it is just raising one’s voice for innocent netizens who have been imprisoned. The idea of “Changing China by Watching” (围观改变中国) is now spreading on Twitter. It is precisely this idea that led netizens from all over China to gather at the entrance to the Mawei District People’s Court in Fujian Province [during the trial of the Three Netizens], and more than 5,000 others to sign an online petition in 2010. Herzog Days, produced by Beijing independent documentary filmmaker He Yang,10 documented in detail this unprecedented political event: with their simple conviction, people for the first time since 1989 (at least it was the first time that I had seen this since 1989) marched in the streets shouting: “Speech is not a crime, long live Freedom!”

Lihong’s effort to promote this action to fight for freedom of expression on the Internet is the socalled crime of “gathering a crowd to disturb social order,” with which the procuratorate has charged her. . . .
. . . If we say that Lihong is guilty of disturbing social order, then she is not the only one who committed this crime. Countless netizens around China took part in online discussions of the Three Netizens’ case; and many well-known lawyers, legal experts, and scholars also raised questions and issued appeals. There were also CCTV, local TV stations, and many newspapers. The visibility of the Three Netizens’ case was made possible by these media and the Internet. Most of the people who gathered in front of the Mawei court did not know, or had any close ties with, any one of the three netizens. People came together only for a common goal—protect citizens’ right to freedom of expression. Just as Lihong said during the birthday celebration gathering for the imprisoned You Jingyou:
Who says we’re trying to rescue you? We’re fighting for ourselves. You are our conscience, and we don’t want the last bit of conscience to be buried by cowardice. It’s you rescuing our conscience, our courage. It’s you who are rescuing the last remaining space for our speech.

Wang Lihong and Zhao Lianhai's Wife and ChildrenWhy did Lihong become the initiator of the action to show concern for the case of the Three Netizens? In order to understand her motives and purpose, I sincerely request those who are concerned about Lihong, especially those who ordered her arrest, to read and re-read her letters.

She began writing these letters on December 4, 2009, National Law Day. Five days before this, Sun Chunlan was transferred to Fujian to replace the previous Party secretary, Lu Zhangong. Lihong had some hope for this transfer. She believed that with this new beginning, there would be a change for the better for the Three Netizens.

In her capacity as a citizen of Beijing, Lihong introduced the case and described its repercussions. She wrote:

It’s said that there are 300 million netizens in China now, and so who can guarantee that every word written on the Internet is 100 percent correct? If these three honorable people who take pleasure in helping others are imprisoned for their postings on the Internet, how many of us 300 million netizens should expect to be caged?

From December 4, 2009 to June 15, 2010, Lihong wrote a total of 23 letters to Sun Chunlan (for the complete set of letters, please see Wang Lihong’s blog). From the inscriptions at the bottom of the letters, and their time-stamps on her blog, we can see that many of these letters were written in the middle of the night, and posted just before dawn. . . .

I really believe that Sun is a fortunate woman because a citizen far away in Beijing was concerned about the exercise of her power in Fuzhou [capital of Fujian]. Lihong’s genuine intentions came across vividly on paper. Lihong wrote in the first letter:

The official name of our country is People’s Republic of China, a name that was paid for with the lives and bloodshed of countless martyrs for the past 100 years. Although there are many things still unsatisfactory today, the tide of history will only march forward. If we were still in a feudal society, a citizen’s appeal against the government would itself be a crime, and haughty officials would be untouchable. In that situation, if one were to complain about the government, he or she must first be willing to be rolled on nail board, caned, or even imprisoned. And if the complaint were found to be “not factual,” one would even risk beheading. But we are now living in the 21st century; our political system is a republic, and a people’s republic. Article 35 of the Constitution of the People’s Republic of China states: “Citizens of the People’s Republic of China enjoy freedom of speech, of the press, of assembly, of association, of procession and of demonstration.”

Each time I read these letters I’m very moved by Lihong’s persistence and compassion. Where did she get the strength that allowed her to spend sleepless nights to persevere in writing letter after letter to Secretary Sun? I feel that many people are compassionate and intolerable of evil, but what we generally lack is action. Furthermore, we do not believe that action is effective. Every day there is tragic news on the Internet, and over the course of time, our feelings of powerlessness become habitual and we turn a deaf ear.

Lihong’s love is uncommon because she believes in action. In her letters and blog postings, she frequently mentioned that You Jingyou saved a fixed amount from his salary each month to help those who might be in need. This action may seem like a small thing, but it can be done. The volunteer action to help migrants that Lihong participated in used donations from citizens to help a young man seek treatment for a leg infection that had never healed since his childhood. This aid enabled him to stand and travel again, and to be reunited with his family. From these activities, Lihong saw the possibility for action to change one’s fate, and so she believed action was useful. And because of this, she deeply cherished the spirit of the Three Netizens—realizing that they were all the same kind of people, striving to use their meager strength to comfort others. Helping one another in adversity is the citizen’s spirit that Lihong admires. She cannot tolerate people like this being thrown in jail. And because of this, in the middle of the night, she repeatedly urged the provincial party secretary to show her sense of justice and conscience:

One letter not delivered, two letters not delivered, three letters not delivered . . . . This is my ninth letter. I’ll continue writing. Maybe it will take my 100th letter to move you? . . .
Today, a woman from the Fujian Provincial Office in Beijing told me that Secretary Sun will not read the letters. “To tell you the truth,” she said, “she won’t let them get anywhere.” I used to work for a government office and I know the way documents  are circulated. But I still want to write. Otherwise, the heat of the grief and indignation flowing through my veins will make my blood vessels burst. I may write 100 letters, or even 1,000. . . . This land of China has already suffered too many miseries; we really don’t want to see any new wounds inflicted.

For nine consecutive days from February 6, 2010—from the final days of the lunar year to the first day of the new lunar year—Lihong sent a letter a day to Secretary Sun, asking her to show concern for the Three Netizens and to allow them to return home for the Chinese New Year holiday. She wrote:
People like them are like the white blood cells protecting humanity itself ! They are so rare in the world, and we should protect them—not fabricate charges to destroy them. . . .

On the 29th day of the 12th lunar month I made steamed buns. There was good news today: Feng Zhenghu11 came home for Chinese New Year. In his Chinese New Year speech, Premier Wen Jiabao stressed that everything we do is to make the Chinese people’s lives happier and to allow them to have dignity. As we approach the New Year, would not releasing the innocent Three Netizens be a good way to harmonize the society?

Children of the Three Netizens Holding Support Banner on Day of Trial (Photo by Wang Lihong)Today, the Three Netizens’ case has become part of history. In a few days, it will be one year since You Jingyou walked out of prison. I believe that, apart from He Yang’s documentary, Lihong’s 23 letters will be remembered in the annals of history. Many years from now, when Chinese citizens are no longer hounded for posting on the Internet, can supervise the authorities without fear, and can take part in public affairs, they should know that all this began with the efforts of ordinary citizens. That seven months after the Three Netizens’ case ended, Lihong could be detained and then formally arrested is a testament to how brutal the environment is for the fight for freedom.

Resisting Banality: The Soul of Poetry

I first met Lihong one day in September 2009. That day, I originally planned to give a talk about my documentaries in a media research class at Peking University. It was during that trip to the school that I found out that my lecture at the university had been canceled. (The day before, I was giving a lecture at Capital Normal University when someone burst in and interrupted my lecture. I told a teacher at Peking University that I likely would not be able to deliver my lecture there. The teacher who had invited me said: “This type of thing could never happen at our university.” But that evening, he received an order informing him that I could not speak in his classroom.)

That evening I met Lihong for the first time. With my lecture canceled, I had a lot of free time and we were able to talk leisurely. Lihong talked with me excitedly about the German movie, Der Vorleser (The Reader). We talked about the the banality of evil shown in the movie; Lihong even took out her recorder and began taking audio notes. At the time, I thought she was planning to write a review of the movie, but she did not have time to do it. On October 8, Lihong and a group of others, including Xu Zhiyong,12 He Yang, A'er,13 and the Butcher, were all detained because they had gathered for a dinner to celebrate Liu Xiaobo’s Nobel Peace Prize. They were taken to a police station, where Lihong was kept for eight days.

Lihong later wrote about her eight days in detention:

The deputy chief of the police substation said smugly, “You are all just fooling around; you need to spend more time reading books! You see, I like reading, and I especially like the classics, such as the Guwen Guanzhi anthology.14

My glasses didn’t fall off, and I was in no mood to laugh. Although I didn’t really believe at all that he’d actually read Guwen Guanzhi; even if he did, I’m afraid he would never have understood it. I just told him: “Your knowledge is obsolete; someone working in law enforcement should be reading Sociology and Politics. You should go online and check to see what “banality of evil” means. Why are you law enforcement people so violent? Is it necessary?”

Lihong wrote a series of poems, entitled Eight Days, about her experience in detention. They are the only poems on her blog. Moreover, it appears that these were her first attempts at writing poetry:
Separate Action I am so young With lush hair on my temples Stepping into the iron cage of my “bridal chamber” For the first time—I learn To put words in rows In the pale yellow of autumn Against white walls and black windows I am a bride awaiting marriage without guile

From a layman’s point of view, this collection of six poems is exceptional. They provide a sketch of a courageous woman, and describe the agony of the soul. They are sharp, simple, unique, and allow others to see a back which refuses to bend, as in the following poem:

Prisoner of Conscience

From now, you and I are the same You are the past and present prisoners You all have the same name —prisoner of conscience
From now, you and I are intertwined Brutal hands break the roses of iron and blood Leaving hardened thorns Nevermore to sway in the wind
From now, I, like you With sharp cold eyes Dissect a country poisoned That locks my body in ice With my boiling heart I embrace the land of my flesh
From now, standing on one side of the egg I have a band of brothers in righteousness Hey, how are you! Let me in—since the revelry of the world’s end has begun

For many years, I haven’t read contemporary Chinese novels or Chinese poetry. But Lihong, who is neither a writer nor a poet, made me feel the enchantment of poetry. In a time when banality and evil are so prevalent, poetry is actually possible, emerging from clarity of thought and purity of the soul amid extreme difficulties. By purity, I mean a firm adherence to moral conviction and responsibility. The poetic sentiment in Lihong’s works exactly reflects herself: her actions and beliefs are one and the same. Her suffering is not just talk, but is rooted in the suffering of the people in this boundless land. Her poetry is neither narcissistic nor self-pitying, but channeled toward others. Therefore, when she saw Yao Jing, a young female petitioner from Shandong, suffering from fluid accumulation in her spleen resulting from a beating by a hefty man who was sent by the authorities to intercept her, Lihong would stand on the street together with Xu Zhiyong and others to solicit donations for Yao. And in her writings on her blog, she would cry out loudly for people who cannot, such as Li Shulian and Wang Jingmei.15

In writing this commentary on Lihong, I am trying to describe her character, kindness, and goodness. I know that Lihong herself would much rather make films than write poetry. At opening of the Three Netizens’ trial on March 19, 2010, Lihong using a small handheld camcorder, recorded scenes that are deeply moving. If you watch He Yang’s Herzog Days, the scene shot from a camera closest to the police was filmed by Lihong. Previously, in a review of Ai Weiwei’s video, Disturbing the Peace (Lao Ma Ti Hua), I mentioned that the camera was right there at the front line of the faceoff between the petitioners [and the police]. Lihong’s camera did the same. He Yang said this about the scene: “It was really amazing. In the history of independent documentaries in China no one has ever filmed anything like this or as good as this scene, where the cameraperson is running in pursuit of the police while shouting, ‘Why are you hitting people?’”

We Must Protect Wang Lihong

Although I’ve written so much on her here, if you were to ask me “Who is Wang Lihong?” I would find it difficult to answer you at first. Wang Lihong is retired, she is over 50, and you would not be able to distinguish her within a crowd of older women playing mahjong on any street or lane.  She writes poetry but is not a poet, plays with a video camera, but only in her spare time. She passionately promotes the public good but does not belong to any public interest organization.Wang Lihong is a netizen, a person whom her friends respectfully refer to as “Older Sister.”

There is simply no justification for the arrest of Lihong this time based on her personal behavior. After she was detained for eight days last year because she took part in a celebratory dinner for Liu Xiaobo, Lihong was put under house arrest for three months with no freedom of movement. It was not until January 21 this year that the guards downstairs from her apartment were withdrawn. While she was under watch, I would occasionally see her on Skype and we would exchange a few words. Did we discuss national politics? No. I most often tell her to eat the leaves of the goji berry plant which are good for her blood, that she should take care of herself, and talk to her about the changing world outlook on health care, etc., etc. The questions she would ask me were: What kind of hairstyle should I have? I feel short hair is nice. What about shaving my head? Too radical. I have a lot of white hair. Don’t dye your hair, it’s poisonous. . . .

During this period, she was required to write a letter of guarantee, and in the end, to my surprise, she wrote “a letter of non-guarantee.”

. . . [F]rom a legal point of view, making a citizen write a guarantee letter pledging to not do things that are not illegal in order to have freedom of movement is illegal and a mockery of the law.
I am a citizen of the People’s Republic of China. I have the right  to live on the land of my own country and the right to freely move around.

I am a person with conscience and I cannot guarantee that I will  remain silent in the face of suffering. I cannot guarantee that, when I face the stories of Qian Yunhui,16 Tang Fuzhen,17 Li Shulian . . . I will pretend not to see. . . .

If I remain silent when confronted with suffering and wickedness, then I will be the next person beaten down by evil. You as law enforcers, the restriction you place on my freedom is illegal  and has seriously affected my life. I hope that law enforcement and related departments and personnel will quickly correct their illegal actions and give me back my freedom.

—Wang Lihong, citizen of the People’s Republic of China.

After Chinese New Year, Lihong made a trip to Henan. First, she went to visit netizen Wang Yi,18 who had been ordered to serve one year of Reeducation-Through-Labor for re-tweeting a statement by someone else. Following that, she went to Xincai to visit the parents of Tian Xi,19 who had contracted HIV through a tainted blood transfusion. She also wanted to go to Shangcai to visit Tian Xi, who had been sentenced to a year in prison. I remember we spoke once on the phone and she said, “I may not be able to go! My back problem is flaring up again and I’m thinking of returning to Beijing.”

Shortly after returning to Beijing, on March 21, the Chaoyang District police took her away and searched her home. She was formally arrested on April 20. By now, she has been in police custody for 102 days. Since the end of February—from Ran Yunfei’s20 detention and arrest, to the disappearance of Ai Weiwei21 and others—a series of events has occurred that has left people unsettled and shocked. Eventually Teng Biao,22 Jiang Tianyong,23 Ai Weiwei, and others have been released, while the situation Lihong is facing remains unchanged. Each day on Twitter, I see only a very small number of netizens who still tweet information about Lihong. One persistent tweet is, “Let my mother come home to eat!” by Lihong’s son, Xiao Qi.

When Ai Weiwei was detained, there was news about him every day around the world, and there were even websites that collected discussions about him. There was no such effort on behalf of Lihong. Aside from the blog posts of netizen Qiu Mazha,24 I saw no other commentaries about Lihong. One real problem is that Lihong’s friends have been beaten and warned individually. Some no longer use Twitter, while others continue to go online but keep a low profile. I think, perhaps, it may be more difficult to speak out about Lihong than Ai Weiwei. This is because, when you speak out for Ai Weiwei, the artist’s international reputation gives you a powerful protective screen. But Lihong is a just an ordinary Beijing citizen, and netizen, that’s all.

But we must protect Lihong and the reason is simple—because she is a good person, a good citizen, and a good older sister. If netizens such as her could be seen as enemies of the state, then my worries for the country are far greater than those for the enemies themselves. Even though in the face of the powerful state machinery today, each of us are small and weak, my fear will not overpower my friendship with Lihong. I hope more friends will stand together with Lihong’s son, to let him know that he’s not alone. I also hope Lihong knows that we miss her. I thank Lihong’s friend, the poet Yin Longlong,25 for writing this poem. I hope that all our friends will shout out, “Lihong, come home to eat!”

Nine Lines, Cold Weapons—For Older Sister Wang

I want to write a poem about pain; in it is Older Sister WangI want to write a poem about Older SisterWang; in it are transparent breathsI want to write a poem about air; in it is freedom
I do not say what I have seen; you can hearI do not give what I have finished; you dig up a modern proverb: “was suicided”I do not believe it is my fate; you strip a layer of skinOnly the general’s daughter claims this shame, this honor

There is only the smell of gunpowder, as if in New Year. For the people who have thrown off their armor. There are only poems, left unwanted in the street like nonsense.

July 1, 2011

Rights lawyer Gao Zhisheng and the "luxury" of being in prison

Human rights lawyer Gao Zhisheng, who has been held incommunicado by the Chinese authorities for the past 20 months, has been sent back to jail, according to a report on December 16 by the official Xinhua News Agency. The news comes just several days before Gao would have finished his five-year probation. Xinhua said that the Beijing No. 1 Intermediate People’s Court had withdrawn Gao’s probation and ordered him to complete his three-year sentence for “inciting subversion of state power,” a ruling originally made on December 22, 2006. What's absurd is that the court was quoted as saying that the decision was justified because Gao had “seriously violated probation rules” several times. It would have been quite difficult for Gao to have violated the terms of his probation as he has been under police detention at an unknown location for the past 20 months. China Human Rights Defenders said that the decision highlighted the arbitrariness of the law in China. 

Also interesting is that when the Gao family repeatedly asked the police about his whereabouts, police claimed that Gao Zhisheng had been released months ago. This announcement indicates that Gao was in police custody all along and that police intentionally misled his family. 

Observers are not sure what to make of the decision, which came unexpectedly. On the one hand, this is the first time in close to three years that the police have admitted to holding Gao, and if he's in a prison, that means his whereabouts should be known and that he should be allowed occasional family visits, depending on whether or not the authorities will allow him to have any visitors.
The following background details comes from China Human Rights Defenders:

Background 

As a former lawyer and director of the Beijing Shengzhi Law Firm, Gao Zhisheng took on “sensitive cases,” defending, for example, Falun Gong practitioners and individuals persecuted for their involvement in unofficial house churches. As a result of this and other peaceful activities he engaged in as a human rights defender, the Beijing Justice Bureau revoked his law license and shut down his law firm. Gao was also outspoken in the overseas media about human rights violations in China. Gao was detained on August 15, 2006, and arrested on September 21, 2006, on charges of “inciting subversion of state power.” His trial took place on December 12, 2006, and on December 22 he was sentenced to a three-year prison term, suspended for five years, and one-year deprivation of civil and political rights. While on probation, Gao was disappeared on September 22, 2007, by Beijing police officers. Gao was disappeared again on February 4, 2009. He then suddenly resurfaced in late March 2010 and gave several media interviews in which he described the torture he had suffered while held in secret detention. Gao was disappeared again in late April 2010, just after visiting his family in Shaanxi Province.  

I interviewed Gao in April, 2010, during his very brief release. During the interview, he told me that police snapped at him saying he should not even dream about the luxury of being allowed to be in a prison. That segment of my interview is here:

 
As his family struggles in his absence, Gao continues to endure his own nightmare at the government's hands. He provided details of his time in captivity, focusing on the irony of the fact that he could not have the "luxury" of actually going to jail."I'm a bit special among China's 1.3 billion people," he said. "I can't enjoy the privilege of being in prison in China. I can only have the option of disappearing. I often said to the people who detained me that the relationship between us was a legal one and that they should identify themselves as the government and treat me according to the law, and not just use mafia methods. They replied, `If you want to go to jail, you're just dreaming. Prison has proved ineffective in dealing with you'."My family in Shanxi said that if I were under house arrest or legally arrested and sent to prison they could accept it, because they would know that I'm alive."

For more background details, please read my story, Beijing's mafia justice for lawyer they won't lock up but can't set free.