滕彪文集
[主页]->[独立中文笔会]->[滕彪文集]->[the Comfort of Self-Censorship ]
滕彪文集
·邓玉娇是不是“女杨佳”?
·星星——为六四而作
·I Cannot Give Up: Record of a "Kidnapping"
·Political Legitimacy and Charter 08
·六四短信
·倡议“5•10”作为“公民正当防卫日”
·谁是敌人——回"新浪网友"
·为逯军喝彩
·赠晓波
·正义的运动场——邓玉娇案二人谈
·这六年,公盟做了什么?
·公盟不死
·我们不怕/Elena Milashina
·The Law On Trial In China
·自由有多重要,翻墙就有多重要
·你也会被警察带走吗
·Lawyer’s Detention Shakes China’s Rights Movement
·我来推推推
·许志永年表
·庄璐小妹妹快回家吧
·开江县法院随意剥夺公民的辩护权
·Summary Biography of Xu Zhiyong
·三著名行政法学家关于“公盟取缔事件”法律意见书
·公益诉讼“抑郁症”/《中国新闻周刊》
·在中石化上访
·《零八宪章》与政治正当性问题
·我来推推推(之二)
·我来推推推(之三)
·國慶有感
·我来推推推(之四)
·国庆的故事(系列之一)
·国庆的故事(系列之二)
·
·我来推推推(之五)
·我来推推推(之六)
·净空(小说)
·作为反抗的记忆——《不虚此行——北京劳教调遣处纪实》序
·twitter直播-承德冤案申诉行动
·我来推推推(之七)
·关于我的证言的证言
·我来推推推(之八)
·不只是问问而已
·甘锦华再判死刑 紧急公开信呼吁慎重
·就甘锦华案致最高人民法院死刑复核法官的紧急公开信
·我来推推推(之九)
·DON’T BE EVIL
·我来推推推(之十)
·景德镇监狱三名死刑犯绝食吁国际关注
·江西乐平死刑冤案-向最高人民检察院的申诉材料
·我来推推推(之十一)
·法律人的尊严在于独立
·我来推推推(之十二)
·听从正义和良知的呼唤——在北京市司法局关于吊销唐吉田、刘巍律师证的听证会上的代理意见
·一个思想实验:关于中国政治
·公民维权与社会转型(上)——在北京传知行社会经济研究所的演讲
·公民维权与社会转型——在北京传知行社会经济研究所的演讲(下)
·福州“7•4”奇遇记
·夏俊峰案二审辩护词(新版)
·摄录机打破官方垄断
·敦请最高人民检察院立即对重庆打黑运动中的刑讯逼供问题依法调查的公开信
·为政治文明及格线而奋斗——滕彪律师的维权之路
·“打死挖个坑埋了!”
·"A Hole to Bury You"
·谁来承担抵制恶法的责任——曹顺利被劳动教养案代理词
·国家尊重和保障人权从严禁酷刑开始
·分裂的真相——关于钱云会案的对话
·无国界记者:对刘晓波诽谤者的回应
·有些人在法律面前更平等(英文)
·法律人与法治国家——在《改革内参》座谈会上的演讲
·貪官、死刑與民意
·茉莉:友爱的滕彪和他的诗情
·萧瀚:致滕彪兄
·万延海:想起滕彪律师
·滕彪:被迫走上它途的文學小子/威廉姆斯
·中国两位律师获民主奖/美国之音
·独立知识分子——写给我的兄弟/许志永
·滕彪的叫真/林青
·2011年十大法治事件(公盟版)
·Chinese Human Rights Lawyers Under Assault
·《乱诗》/殷龙龙
·吴英的生命和你我有关
·和讯微访谈•滕彪谈吴英案
·吴英、司法与死刑
·努力走向公民社会(视频访谈)
·【蔡卓华案】胡锦云被诉窝藏赃物罪的二审辩护词
·23岁青年被非法拘禁致死 亲属六年申请赔偿无果
·5月2日与陈光诚的谈话记录
·华邮评论:支持中国说真话者的理由
·中国律师的阴与阳/金融时报
·陈光诚应该留还是走?/刘卫晟
·含泪劝猫莫吃鼠
·AB的故事
·陈克贵家属关于拒绝接受两名指定律师的声明
·这个时代最优异的死刑辩词/茉莉
·自救的力量
·不只是问问而已
·The use of Citizens Documentary in Chinese Civil Rights Movements
·行政强制法起草至今23年未通过
·Rights Defence Movement Online and Offline
·遭遇中国司法
·一个单纯的反对者/阳光时务周刊
[列出本栏目所有内容]
欢迎在此做广告
the Comfort of Self-Censorship


   By Teng Biao
   
   In December 2014 I was invited by the American Bar Association (ABA) to write a manuscript for a book to be titled “Darkness Before Dawn.” In it, I would describe the decade I spent engaged in human rights work in China, and what those experiences illustrate about the country’s politics, judicial system, society, and future.
   

   But the formal contract with the ABA was soon rescinded. The reason, I was told by the employee in charge of commissioning it, was because they were afraid to anger the Chinese government.
   
   When “Chinese politics” is mentioned, most think of the factional struggles forever roiling Zhongnanhai, the headquarters of the Communist Party. But this is only part of the picture. The stories I’ve long sought to tell are otherwise: about the activists given heavy prison sentences for forming opposition political parties; about the human rights lawyers who’ve represented persecuted Christians, Falun Gong practitioners, Tibetans, and Uyghurs; about the rights defenders whose dogged activism helped to abolish the labor camp system. And then there are those who’ve worked against the one child birth control policy, forced demolitions, judicial misconduct, and environmental pollution, as well as the non-governmental organizations (NGOs) who’ve promoted democratic ideals, defended free speech, and pushed for greater gender equality.
   
   I’m one of their number: for my activism I’ve had my studies interrupted, been forced out of a job, had my passport confiscated, been disbarred from practicing law, and have even been jailed and tortured. All of us engaged in this work have paid an enormous price—but we’ve made progress. No understanding of contemporary China is complete without a thorough grasp of this community of Chinese activists. They’re the country’s hope for the future.
   
   These were the ideas animating the manuscript proposal that was at first enthusiastically received by the ABA. It promised to be “an important and groundbreaking book,” my correspondent said. But the formal publishing contract we signed was soon reneged upon, with this explanation: “There is concern that we run the risk of upsetting the Chinese government by publishing your book, and because we have ABA commissions working in China there is fear that we would put them and their work at risk.”
   
   I don’t want to single out the ABA. This is simply the latest example of the corrosive influence of the Chinese Communist Party on the West. It’s a crowded field: There are the Confucius Institutes and the Federation of Chinese Students and Scholars, both under the control of the Chinese government as they erode academic freedom on campuses in the United States. There’s Yahoo, who provided China’s public security forces with the personal information of Chinese political dissidents so authorities could arrest, jail and torture them. Facebook is flirting with the China market. And Twitter just hired a former Chinese military and security apparatchik to head their operations in China. “Red capital” has flooded the media markets in Hong Kong and Taiwan, and some Western journalists have been forced out of China or denied visas. Books have had key passages deemed sensitive deleted. And many Western scholars of China practice self-censorship—for perfectly understandable reasons: if their conclusions on a “sensitive” political topic anger the regime, they won’t get a visa, and their prestige, position, and funding will be jeopardized.
   
   The ABA is just one of the many major Western institutions attempting to promote change in China—on the Communist Party’s terms. Alongside the ABA’s Rule of Law Initiative, there’s the U.S.-China Human Rights Dialogue, the EU-China Human Rights Dialogue, training programs for Chinese judges, prosecutors, and police, and exchange programs with universities and the official lawyers’ associations. These organizations want their programs to be effective—and so they carefully avoid a great many issues that might endanger their success. The list is long: the persecution of Falun Gong, the Tiananmen Square massacre in 1989, the Party’s policies in Tibet and Xinjiang, dissidents, “radical” human rights lawyers, and street activists. There is a constant guessing game about which way the political winds in Beijing are blowing. And so without realizing it, Western institutions end up helping the Chinese government to silence the individuals and groups it finds the most troublesome. Self-censorship has become instinctive, and now characterizes the very basis of their interactions with the regime.
   
   This has resulted in an unintended, and bitterly ironic consequence. Nearly all the major program funding has ended up in the pockets of government departments, Government-Organized Nongovernmental Organizations (GONGOs), and scholars with state ties. Resources meant to support the rule of law and human rights have made their way into the hands of those whose job it is trample upon human rights: courts, Procuratorates, public security departments, the official lawyers association, and Party-affiliated mass organizations like the All-China Women’s Federation.
   
   Americans here are guilty of the classic error of mirror-imaging: projecting onto China what is familiar to them. The American Bar Association might imagine, for instance, that the All China Lawyers Association is their professional counterpart. This would be a deep misunderstanding. My book discusses the extensive efforts by rights defense lawyers in Beijing to lobby for free elections for key positions in the All China Lawyers Association, and how the attempts were shut down and those engaged in them punished. The Association, and all law societies in China, are simply part of the government’s apparatus of control: it has disbarred numerous rights lawyers on the orders of the Party, and has been a proactive accomplice in drafting policies that prevent lawyers from taking on political cases. Helping these GONGOs is worse than doing nothing.
   
   The same can be said for the training programs directed at police, judges, and prosecutors: Western organizations are inclined to think that miscarriages of justice must simply be a matter of insufficient professional training. Wrong again. The primary reason for abuses of justice in China is because the judicial system is an instrument of Party control, where political cadres directly and arbitrarily interfere in legal cases.
   
   Foreign organizations are thus limited to working in the apolitical safe zones the regime tacitly permits. These include, for instance, environmental protection, better treatment for handicapped people, women’s rights, HIV/AIDS, and education. Even in these sectors though, they’re still treated as “hostile foreign forces.” In the past few years, in particular, the regime’s realm of permissiveness has rapidly constricted. And so we see that attempts to please the Communist Party with mild-mannered human rights promotion haven’t brought about any concessions on the part of the authorities. The soon-to-be-passed Foreign NGO Management Law will further narrow the space in which these organizations can operate.
   
   Rule of law and human rights dialogues, meanwhile, have mostly become a means for the Party to deflect substantive demands to change its human rights practices. Dialogues end with vague remarks about the importance of dialogue and understanding and the ongoing nature of the reform process. Yet rights defenders and journalists are arrested in still greater numbers. Torture, forced disappearances, detention in black jails, and religious persecution haven’t decreased. When the Chinese activist Cao Shunli attempted to participate in the UN Human Rights Council’s Universal Periodic Review, she was tortured to death. Other recent prominent cases include that of Tenzin Delek Rinpoche, a Tibetan monk, who died in jail in July 2015, and Ilham Tohti, a moderate Uyghur scholar, who was sentenced to life imprisonment last year. Both were peaceful activists. And then there is Nobel Peace Prize laureate Liu Xiaobo, who is still serving his 11 year sentence in prison.

[下一页]
blog comments powered by Disqus

©Boxun News Network All Rights Reserved.
所有栏目和文章由作者或专栏管理员整理制作,均不代表博讯立场