滕彪文集
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滕彪文集
·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
·“颠覆国家政权罪”的政治意涵/滕彪
·财产公开,与虎谋皮
·Changing China through Mandarin
·通过法律的抢劫——答《公民论坛》问
·Teng Biao: Defense in the Second Trial of Xia Junfeng Case
·血拆危局/滕彪
·“中国专制体制依赖死刑的象征性”
·To Remember Is to Resist/Teng Biao
·Striking a blow for freedom
·滕彪:维权、微博与围观:维权运动的线上与线下(上)
·滕彪:维权、微博与围观:维权运动的线上与线下(下)
·达赖喇嘛与中国国内人士视频会面问答全文
·台灣法庭初體驗-專訪滕彪
·滕彪:中国政治需要死刑作伴
·一个反动分子的自白
·强烈要求释放丁红芬等公民、立即取缔黑监狱的呼吁书
·The Confessions of a Reactionary
·浦志强 滕彪: 王天成诉周叶中案代理词
·选择维权是一种必然/德国之声
·A courageous Chinese lawyer urges his country to follow its own laws
·警方建议起诉许志永,意见书似“公民范本”
·对《集会游行示威法》提起违宪审查的公开建议书
·对《集会游行示威法》提起违宪审查的公开建议书
·滕彪访谈录:在“反动”的道路上越走越远
·因家暴杀夫被核准死刑 学界联名呼吁“刀下留人”
·川妇因反抗家暴面临死刑 各界紧急呼吁刀下留人
·Activist’s Death Questioned as U.N. Considers Chinese Rights Report
·Tales of an unjust justice
·打虎不是反腐
·What Is a “Legal Education Center” in China
·曹雅学:谁是许志永—— 与滕彪博士的访谈
·高层有人倒行逆施 民间却在不断成长
·让我们记住作恶的法官
·China’s growing human rights movement can claim many accomplishments
·總有一種花將會開遍中華大地/郭宏治
·不要忘记为争取​自由而失去自由的人们
·Testimony at CECC Hearing on China’s Crackdown on Rights Advocates
·Tiananmen at 25: China's next revolution may already be underway
·宗教自由普度共识
·"Purdue Consensus on Religious Freedom"
·Beijing urged to respect religious freedom amid ‘anti-church’ crackd
·“中共难容宗教对意识形态的消解”
·非常规威慑
·许志永自由中国公民梦不碎
·滕彪维园演讲
·Speech during the June 4th Vigil in Victoria Park in Hong Kong
·坦克辗压下的中国
·呂秉權﹕滕彪赤子心「死諫」香港
·【林忌评论】大陆没民主 香港没普选?
·曾志豪:滕彪都站出來,你呢?
·June 2014: Remembering Tiananmen: The View from Hong Kong
·The Strength to Save Oneself
·讓北京知道 要甚麼樣的未來/苹果日报
·否認屠殺的言論自由?
·Beyond Stability Maintenance-From Surveillance to Elimination/Teng bia
·从稳控模式到扫荡模式
·為自由,免於恐懼越絕壑——記滕彪談中國維權路
·就律协点名维权律师“无照”执业 滕彪答德国之声记者问
·法官如何爱国?
·滕彪给全国律协的公开信
·郑州十君子公民声援团募款倡议书
·Politics of the Death Penalty in China
·What sustains Chinese truth-tellers
·在人权灾难面前不应沉默
·From Stability Maintenance to Wiping Out/Teng biao
·自由不是一個禮物,而是一個任務
·抱薪救火的严打政策
·习近平要回到文革吗?
·中国宪法的结构性缺陷
·25 years later, Tiananmen cause is still costly
·A Chinese activist: Out of prison but not free
·中国人权有进步吗?
·Activist lawyer vows to keep fighting for human rights
·高智晟:走出监狱却没有自由
·VOA时事大家谈:维权/维稳
·和平香港行動呼籲
·沉默的吶喊
·Head Off a Tiananmen Massacre in Hong Kong/Yang jianli,Teng Biao,Hu ji
·滕彪被中国政法大学除名 因参与新公民运动
· Ilham Tohti should get the Nobel peace prize, not life in prison
·受难的伊力哈木
·香港人不会接受一个假选举
· Chinese activist scholar Teng Biao on how Occupy Central affects main
·大陆法律人关于支持港人真普选和释放大陆声援公民的声明
·« Révolution des parapluies » contre Pékin / Teng biao
·We Stand With You
·从占领中环到伞花革命
·不可承受的革命之重
·中国维权运动的历史和现状
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The fight for Chinese rights

https://world.wng.org/2019/01/the_fight_for_chinese_rights
   
   The fight for Chinese rights
   
   A network of lawyers in China has led a bold effort to enforce the rule of law, but Communist opposition is formidable

   
   by June Cheng Post Date: January 17, 2019
   
   
   
   For three years after her husband’s disappearance, Li Wenzu had no idea where he was or whether he was even alive. Wang Quanzhang, a 42-year-old Chinese human rights lawyer who had represented political dissidents and the victims of land grabs, first went missing during a 2015 crackdown, when Communist agents detained more than 320 lawyers and activists.
   
   One by one, the authorities released the other detainees, tried them in sham courts, or paraded them on television for forced confessions. But Li still had no word on her husband, except for a notice in February 2017 that he had been charged with “subversion of state power.” Li believed the radio silence from Wang meant he had resolutely resisted confessing and thus the government was punishing him.
   
   Out of desperation, Li and other lawyers’ wives became activists themselves: They petitioned the Chinese government, testified in a U.S. congressional hearing (Li by video), and protested outside the Tianjin detention center. In December 2018, Li and a few other wives shaved their heads outside a Beijing park. The Chinese word for hair (fa) sounds like the word for law: “We can do without our hair, but we can’t do without law,” they explained.
   
   It was only last July that a government-appointed lawyer was allowed to meet with Wang. On the day of Wang’s Dec. 26 trial in Tianjin, police barred Li from leaving her home in Beijing, and the court barred the public—including reporters and foreign diplomats—from attending the proceeding. What went on inside the courtroom is unclear, but it seems Wang remained defiant: Li got word that he fired his government lawyer in court, meaning he likely forced an adjournment of the trial until authorities could find him a new attorney.
   
   “This whole process has been illegal, so how could I expect an open and fair trial?” Li told The New York Times before the hearing.
   
   Wang is the last lawyer facing prosecution as a direct consequence of the Chinese government’s 2015 sweep of weiquan (or rights defense) lawyers. The weiquan movement, in which lawyers and activists use China’s own laws to protect citizens’ rights, has for more than a decade represented what the Chinese Communist Party fears as a threat to its power: governance by rule of law. While the party claims to uphold legal rights, it has fiercely opposed lawyers who seek to hold the government accountable, jailing them or driving them from the country.
   
   “China’s political system is at odds with providing citizens with basic rights,” says Teng Biao, an exiled human rights lawyer. “If everyone uses the law to defend the rights of citizens, then this political system could not survive.”
   
   Despite the formidable opposition, courageous men and women in China have risked their lives and livelihoods to pursue justice in an unjust country. They have publicized their abusive treatment in detention and spoken truth to power. Although some are now disbarred or exiled, others are working to take their place. But under an increasingly oppressive Communist regime, is there any future for China’s human rights defenders?
   
   Biao: Nicholas Kamm/AFP/Getty Images • Guangcheng: Nicholas Kamm/AFP/Getty Images • Tohti: Frederic J. Brown/AFP/Getty Images • 4: Kyodo/AP
   (Biao: Nicholas Kamm/AFP/Getty Images • Guangcheng: Nicholas Kamm/AFP/Getty Images • Tohti: Frederic J. Brown/AFP/Getty Images • 4: Kyodo/AP)
   
   CHAIRMAN MAO ZEDONG first implemented a Soviet-style legal system in China in 1954. But disruptive campaigns—the Anti-Rightist Movement, the Great Leap Forward, and the Cultural Revolution—kept it from taking hold. After Mao’s death in 1976, the central government began reforming its legal system, crafting extensive laws and judicial procedure to prevent a return to the chaos of the Cultural Revolution and to attract foreign investment. The government opened law schools to train legal professionals and allowed students to take the college entrance exam beginning in 1977.
   
   The 1982 Chinese Constitution seemed to give citizens greater rights: It upheld the freedom of speech, religion, press, and assembly. Citizens had the right to vote and run for office, as well as the right to a public trial except in cases dealing with national security, sex offenses, or minors.
   
   While much of it looked good on paper, many of the laws were never enforced. Courts lacked judicial independence and bent to the will of Communist Party officials. Corruption plagued lower-level courts, as bribes or party connections could keep criminals out of prison.
   
   Teng Biao entered Peking University Law School in 1996, the year that lawyers became independent professionals rather than civil servants. At the time, Peking University was considered one of the most open schools in China, and some of Teng’s teachers taught Western legal theories that influenced him greatly. He also read Western books on democracy, and when he became a professor himself, he often discussed these sensitive topics with his students.
   
   The weiquan movement took off in 2003 with the case of Sun Zhigang, a 27-year-old graphic designer from Wuhan. On March 17, 2003, Guangzhou police picked up Sun during a random identity card check. Because he had just started his job in the city, he had not yet applied for a temporary residence permit and had forgotten his ID at home. Police threw him into a “custody and repatriation center,” a detention center for migrants from other cities.
   
   Three days later, Sun was dead. Doctors claimed he had died of stroke and a heart attack, but an official autopsy revealed he had been beaten to death while in detention.
   
   Investigative journalists at China’s Southern Metropolis Daily newspaper reported on the case, and the news quickly spread on the internet, angering Chinese citizens. Three legal scholars—Teng, Xu Zhiyong, and Yu Jiang—sent an open letter to the National People’s Congress Standing Committee stating that “custody and repatriation centers” were unconstitutional because they violated citizens’ rights.
   
   In response, Premier Wen Jiabao abolished the custody and repatriation system. Officials sentenced to death the two people responsible for Sun’s murder and sent their accomplices to prison. Sun’s family received a $53,000 settlement, and the government even named lawyer Teng “Ten People in Rule of Law in 2003.” Encouraged by the case’s success, more weiquan lawyers emerged, representing the victims of land grabs, forced abortions, and tainted-milk scandals, as well as house church leaders, Falun Gong practitioners, and political prisoners.
   
   Teng co-founded the Open Constitution Initiative, providing a platform for lawyers, journalists, scholars, and bloggers to work together and ensure the government followed its own laws. He represented wrongly convicted death row inmates, helped draft Charter 08 calling for democracy and rule of law, and investigated the mistreatment of Tibetans.
   
   Yet the Sun case was more of an outlier than the norm: In 2004, police arrested Southern Metropolis Daily’s editor-in-chief, Cheng Yizhong, and detained him for five months as punishment for the paper’s reporting. Authorities disbarred Teng in 2008 and shut down the Open Constitution Initiative a year later. They took Teng’s passport, monitored his movements, and detained and tortured him. He finally left for the United States in 2014 and has been unable to return home.
   
   Before moving to the United States, Teng also represented Chen Guangcheng, a blind, self-taught lawyer who in 2005 sued the government of Shandong for forcibly aborting the babies of rural women under the government’s one-child policy. In retaliation, officials sentenced Chen to four years in prison.
   
   After Chen’s release, authorities kept him under house arrest with his wife and young daughter. In 2012 he made a brazen escape, scrambling over walls and through his neighbors’ yards to a friend’s waiting car and then to the U.S. Embassy. He and his family eventually moved to the United States, where he is now a fellow at the Witherspoon Institute.

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