Diosa de la Democracia en la Avenida Reforma en la ciudad de México / Goddess of Democracy on Reforma Avenue in Mexico City

EN ESPAÑOL
En apoyo al movimiento de protesta estudiantil mexicano "YoSoy132" 4Gentlemen ha puesto una versión del proyecto de arte público de realidad aumentada "Goddess of Democracy" en la Avenida Reforma cerca de donde los estudiantes han estado organizando en un intento de bloquear la calle en protesta por la corrupción política.
IN ENGLISH
In support of the Mexican student protest movement "YoSoy132," 4Gentlemen has placed a version of the augmented reality public art project "Goddess of Democracy" on Reforma Avenue near where the students have been organizing in an attempt to block the street in protest of political corruption.

EN ESPAÑOL
Ver el proyecto ahora en Monumento un Cuauhtémocmáis en el Paseo de La Reforma en tu Android o iPhone a ahora. Escriba http://m.layar.com/open/tsquare en los teléfonos de su explorador web o escanear este código QR. Necesitará descargar el navegador de realidad aumentada Layar libre, http://layar.com.
IN ENGLISH
View the project now at Monumento a Cuauhtémocmáis on Paseo de La Reforma on your Android or iPhone now. Enter http://m.layar.com/open/tsquare on your phones web browser or scan this QR code. You will need to download the free Layar augmented reality browser, http://layar.com.

That Year, These Years: Stories of Tiananmen

By Li Xuewen
Translated by Little Bluegill
Original text here.

That Year, I was twelve years old and in the fifth grade. The happiest part of my day: I would come home from school, turn on our battered black-and-white TV and listen to my older brother, who was a student at the local teacher’s college, passionately detail the day’s happenings in Beijing. Scenes of waving flags, young faces and screeching ambulances flashed across the screen, brimming with energy and a feeling of meaning and weight.
That Year, the summer was especially hot.
After school, my friends and I walked through the pockmarked roads of our village. We no longer goofed around like before. By that time, a few of us buddies had started to talk about the big affairs of the country. “Let’s write a letter to Zhao Ziyang,” I suggested.  My friends replied, “You write it. Your essays are very well written.” But I had no idea what I should write. I just had this vague notion that we should do something.
My father came home from our county seat. He said that someone had tried to hand him a flyer as he was riding his bike down the street. He didn’t take it. It was not long before he had peddled away.
Father was the principal of the village elementary school. In the past, he had never been admitted to the Party because of his poor family background. He cried loudly about this in the past. He was afraid.
Later, the youthful energy on TV became a bloody scream.
July was torrid. My older brother, who had graduated by then, hadn’t come home.  Father became worried and went to the school to look for him.
As Father stepped off the bus, the head of my brother’s department was there waiting for him. The department head’s first words when they met were, “Your son was sent to be re-educated.”  When he heard this, Father collapsed on the ground, foaming at the mouth.
Holding my father in his arms, the department said over and over, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
When Father came home, he told the family that my brother was a student leader and had taken students to protest in the streets. Five students from his college were sent to be re-educated, and my brother was one of them. He would probably not receive his diploma and wouldn’t get a work assignment.
I had a vague sense of pride for my brother, but the despair in Father’s voice troubled me.
A month later, my brother came home. He wasn’t the cheerful person he once was. Rather, he was silent. Everyday he would wander around the village fields, brooding with a furrowed brow. No one knew what he was thinking about.
Father forced my brother to go to the County Board of Education every day to inquire about work assignments. My brother was the first person from our village to attend college, and Father had endured many hardships. Father wanted my brother to leave the village and get a job.
My brother often quarreled with Father. Later on, my brother was finally assigned a job and went to town to be a middle school teacher. Eventually he tested into graduate school, got his doctorate and became an assistant professor at a prestigious university.
Some time later, as my brother and I were reminiscing about the past, he told me that during the protests, they were passing a military district. Many of the students wanted to rush in, but as student leader my brother did everything in his power to stop them.
Perhaps it is because of this that he was eventually assigned a job.
By chance, I once ran into the head of my brother’s department. He told me, “Your father is a good person. Your brother and the others are hot-blooded youth.”
That summer, something took root in the heart of a twelve-year-old boy.
The memories of that year influenced the rest of my life.
One day in 1995 when I was at university, I ran into an old classmate and started talking about Tiananmen. He mentioned he had a whole batch of photos from that time, all taken by his brother. I was excited and asked him to bring them for me to see. I saw the Goddess of Democracy standing gloriously aloft the square, and a sea of people wearing white bandanas. “These pictures are treasures. You must take good care of them,” I implored my classmate. He didn’t seem to feel the same way. “If you like them, take them.” I hurriedly stored them away, as if I had discovered rare jewels.
After graduation, I was assigned to be an elementary school teacher back home. Once, as my colleagues and I were chatting about the events of That Year, a female colleague noticed how impassioned I was on the subject. She snorted, “You’re so excited. You know, in ’89 I was a senior in high school. None of us could take the college entrance exams because of the student protests. I went back home to work on the farm. Now I’m just a private tutor.”
I was speechless. It was only then I realized the events of that year had altered her entire life.
It was also at that time I began spending entire nights listening to the Voice of America and Radio Free Asia. I heard many more Tiananmen stories. I also began reading books like He Qinglian’s The Trap of Modernization and the Liu Junning’s edited volume Public Forum. I became a liberal.
In 1998 my younger brother opened a bookstore. He sold pirated books from Hong Kong and Taiwan that he bought at a market in Wuhan, including titles like The Real June Fourth, Tiananmen and the memoirs of people like Wang Dan and Feng Congde. Those books sold like crazy. Most of the people buying them were retired workers from state-owned enterprises. They never haggled. My younger brother was quite brazen about it too, strutting about as he put those books on the shelves. Eventually, a teacher reported our store in a letter to the Hubei Daily, saying we were selling vast numbers of reactionary books.
People from the cultural center stormed in holding copies of the Hubei Daily and confiscated all of these books.
Since we couldn’t sell them in the open, we started selling them discreetly. In the winter, my younger brother and I hid copies of the illegal books in our thick cotton coats. Whenever an old worker would come asking about them, we would slide the books out of our coats make a sales pitch. We sold many books this way, and my younger brother was very pleased with the money he was earning.
It wasn’t long before my brother came back from a trip to Wuhan looking very dejected. The book market had been shut down for selling pornography. We had no way to bring in new copies.
Our store never sold those books again.
Around the dinner table one day, we were discussing June Fourth when my brother-in-law, who worked as a local government official, said, “You read those reactionary books every day, crying out for justice, but do you ever think about what it would be like if the crackdown never happened? What about this decade of economic growth and the life our family enjoys today? Stability trumps all!”
I left the table, furious.
On June 4, 1999, I fasted and wrote an essay titled “Thoughts on the Tenth Anniversary of June Fourth.” This marked my passage into spiritual maturity.
In 2000 I moved to Hangzhou. Living in a dormitory at Zhejiang University, I took the graduate school exams. On the school web forum, students were downloading a documentary titled Tiananmen, which had gone viral.
In Hangzhou I met Fu Guoyong. In his simple apartment, I listened to him recall his story. That Year, he joined the student movement. He gave a public speech on Tiananmen Square. He met his wife. Then he was arrested, put on a train, shackled from hand to foot, thrown in jail. His mother went gray overnight. His wife, who was a top student at Beijing Normal University, never gained recognition at school because of her anti-revolutionary family. He showed me pictures of his wife and child visiting him in jail, the three of them with pure, resplendent smiles on their faces.
It was the most beautiful photo I had ever seen.
One day in 2002, a friend arranged for me to visit the student leader Wang Youcai. Wang was sent to jail for organizing the Democratic Party of China. His wife, Hu Jiangxia, was at home. Making wide detours to avoid being followed, my friend and I wound our way to Wang Youcai’s house in Hangzhou’s Emerald Garden neighborhood. At last we met Hu Jiangxia and had a  lively conversation. Not long afterwards, I heard Wang and Hu filed for divorce. Some time after that, Wang was sent to the United States through negotiations between the Chinese and American governments. Eventually, Hu Jiangxia also made her way to the U.S.. I heard that they remarried.
In Hangzhou, there was a boss of a large company who asked to borrow my copy of Wang Dan’s prison memoirs. He kept it for a long time. Only later did I realize that in That Year he had been the chairmen of Zhejiang University’s autonomous student council. The summer of That Year, one of his toes was broken off. He changed course and went on to become a successful businessman.
In 2003 my friend and I began hosting an academic salon at Sanlian Bookstore in Hangzhou. According to Fu Guoyong, this was the first time since the crackdown on the pro-democracy movement that an open, grassroots activity was publically hosted in Hangzhou. We invited Fu Guoyong to give a lecture. That was the first time he spoke at a public gathering since leaving prison.
In 2005, I started graduate school in Kunming, the capital of Yunnan Province. During class one day, the teacher suddenly began speaking to us dozen or so students about June Fourth. He said some of the events of That Year were perfectly pure, others extremely foul. Our teacher was a graduate student in Beijing at the time of the crackdown. He personally experienced all that happened that summer. I was shocked to hear this. He wasn’t merely a professor. He was the principal of the school—a bona fide official. This was the first time I heard someone from inside the system speak openly about June Fourth in a classroom.
After class, I excitedly shared my own June Fourth story with several classmates. A few female students born in the 80s listened to me wide-eyed, as if they were listening to fantastical stories from some strange, far-off land. “Is it true, what he’s saying?” they asked the class monitor, who had been standing nearby listening. He nodded his head. “It’s true. It’s all true. I was there at Tiananmen at the time. I even slept there a few nights.” Our class monitor was born in 1968. He had taken part in June Fourth.
Still, those young classmates couldn’t believe it. “How come we never knew anything about this before?” they asked with a sigh.
My roommate Old Yang was a graduate student in the Fine Arts Department. He was born in the 70s, a party member and a university lecturer. One night, as we lay awake talking, he told me about a student from his village who went to Tsinghua University. During June Fourth he disappeared. Twenty years had passed, and no one knew anything about what had happened to him. If he was alive, no one had seen his face; if he was dead, no one had viewed the body. He was the only student from that village to ever attend a prestigious university. “I hate the Communist Party,” Old Yang spat.
That Year, a professor from my department supported the student protesters in Yunnan. He shared with me what happened when he lead the students. They scaled the university walls and took to the streets, shouting protest slogans. After the June Fourth Massacre, the professor organized Yunnan Province’s first protest march. As autumn came, his actions caught up with him. He was suspended from teaching and put under investigation. With documents piled before him, his investigators demanded he admit his crimes. His students protected him, saying they marched of their own volition, without any encouragement from their teacher. He kept his job, but he began to fall in love with one female student after another. He divorced several times, becoming dissolute. Although he should have been made department head long ago, he was never promoted. Once, at a banquet, he berated the Party in front of all the university leaders. “The Chinese Communist Party should have collapsed back in 1989! They should have died out a long time ago, damn it!”
The room fell silent.
The other professors say he turned into a different person after June Fourth, cursing the Communist Party and womanizing his students.
My graduate adviser was an old professor and a member of the Democratic Party. After June Fourth, the Yunnan Provincial Party Committee organized a forum with democracy advocates. “I’ve never understood how June Fourth was handled,” he said in a speech there. “Why did the government have to do what it did?” Twenty years on, he still couldn’t make sense of it.
In 2009, I graduated and stuck around campus to take the university’s employment test. I received the top score. The Yunnan Security Agency opened a political investigation on me because I had previously published a few articles on foreign websites. That was the first time I ever dealt with security officials, and it filled me with dread.
A deputy director from the security agency asked me, “What are your thoughts on June Fourth?” I paused, then said, “June Fourth doesn’t concern my generation. It’s very complicated.” He stared at me for a long time, then retorted, “You mean you don’t think the decisive action taken by the Party in that year was the reason for our prosperity and success today?”
I remembered the argument with my brother-in-law. They had the same logic—the same inhumane logic. I stayed silent. I didn’t dare refute him, afraid of losing my chance at a teaching position.
Regardless, I failed to pass my political investigation. The university Party committee rejected my application on the grounds that I “did not fervently love my country and socialism.”
To this day, I still feel guilty for the cowardice I showed when confronted by the stability maintenance system. June Fourth is not just a matter for the generation that came to age in 1989. It’s a matter that relates to every person on Chinese soil. It is blood spilled by tyranny. It is an open wound on the body of this nation that will never close. Whatever you think of June Fourth, you cannot have a muddled opinion on it, you cannot make haphazard excuses for it. You must say no to atrocity, you must say no to the truth written in blood and the lies written in ink. One’s opinion of June Fourth is the most basic measure of the morality of every Chinese person, the touchstone that torments every Chinese person’s conscience and humanity. Any action or expression that crosses that bottom line is an injustice that violates one’s very conscience.
After my expulsion from the university in 2009, I made my way to Beijing. Since then, I have met many teachers and friends, and I heard even more stories of Tiananmen.
When I first arrived in Beijing, I became a reporter for a Party-affiliated magazine. One day, an older female colleague recounted a story from her university years. It was the early 90s and a soldier had an eye for her, was courting her, but she had no feelings for him. One day, as they were walking together, the soldier asked her, “Do you college students still hate us soldiers?” She didn’t respond. The soldier continued, “I didn’t fire my gun.”
Another female colleague of mine, born in the 80s, held an advanced degree from Wuhan University. Her boyfriend was an army officer. One day she heard some of us chatting about June Fourth and was shocked. When she got home that night she asked her boyfriend about it. He told her that the guns were not loaded that day. She called me late that night and yelled, “Did people really die or not? Who should I believe?” I answered her question with a question of my own. “If there were no bullets in their guns, how did all those students and ordinary citizens die?” After arguing for half an hour she still didn’t know if she should trust her boyfriend or me.
She broke up with her boyfriend. I don’t know the reason why.
In a restaurant in Beijing’s Haidian District, professor Yu Shuo, who had arrived in Beijing from Hong Kong, shared with me her own June Fourth story. At that time she was a young lecturer in Renmin University’s sociology department. She and Liu Xiaobo came from the same hometown and were friends. That whole summer, she carried a camera and tape recorder around Tiananmen Square, interviewing students, intellectuals and city residents. She wanted a record of everything. On the night of June 3, she was preparing to evacuate the square with the last wave of students. Liu Xiaobo had told her his bag was left at a corner of the Monument to the People’s Heros, with his money and his passport that he would need to travel to the U.S. still inside. While the students were retreating, Yu Shuo ran over to the monument to retrieve the bag, but a student patrol grabbed her and threw her to the ground, yelling, “Do you want to die?” After she returned back to campus, she showed her photos to a leader from her department. One of the photos showed the body of a student who had been beaten to death near the gate of China University of Political Science, his brains spilling onto the ground. The department leader began to wail. He grabbed a pile of blank letterhead and stamped them all with his official seal. He gave them to Yu Shuo, saying, “Child, run away, quickly. This is all I can do to help you.” Yu told me she’d always remember that department leader, who risked a great deal to help her. It’s ordinary people like him whose souls shine.
With these letters in hand, she scrambled her way to Guangdong and then Shekou, preparing to look for Yuan Geng. She hid on and island for half a month, then went to Hong Kong as the first person rescued through Operation Yellowbird. She later moved to France, where she married a French citizen. She earned a Ph.D. in anthropology and became a professor. Today, she works to facilitate academic exchange between China and Europe.
While visiting his home in the Beijing suburb of Songzhuang, Yu Jianrong shared his own story with me. During June Fourth, Yu was in his hometown of Hengyang in Hunan Province, where he worked as a secretary for the municipal government. Yu had a classmate, the child of high-ranking cadres, who was a flag bearer on Tiananmen Square. After June Fourth his classmate fled home and Yu found him a place to stay. Finally, security officials found Yu. His classmate was left unscathed, but they investigated Yu. The investigation scared Yu enough for him to quit his job and become a businessman. He went on to earn over two million yuan, after which he moved to Taiwan and became an academic, earning his doctorate. He eventually became a well-known scholar. June Fourth changed his entire life.
Late one night in a Beijing bar, the artist Gao Huijun shared his June Fourth story with me. He was a college student at the time. On the night of June 3, Gao and his classmates were on Changan Avenue, bullets screeching past their ears. Suddenly, a stray bullet bounced off the ground and struck one of his classmates in the chest. He died at the scene. He collapsed to the ground, then crawled for a few hundred meters before falling still. Old Gao spoke breathlessly, as if it were transpiring before him. A crystal teardrop flickered from behind his thick eyeglasses.
Once during a banquet at a restaurant near West Fourth Ring Road in Beijing, my good friend Wen Kejian introduced me to a middle-aged man sitting at the table. “That’s Ma Shaofang,” Wen said. Stunned, I asked, “You’re Ma Shaofang from the June Fourth wanted list?” Ma, nodding his head, replied, “I never thought, after twenty years, there would still be young people like you who remember me.” I immediately took up my glass and toasted him, saying, “There are certain people and certain things that are unforgettable.”
Ma Shaofang was the first student leader I had ever met. After his release from prison, Ma became a businessman. He is staunchly determined never to leave China.
In Tianjin’s TEDA Arts Center, I once conversed with the renowned collector Ma Huidong over drinks. As the wine warmed us up, Mr. Ma told me that after he graduated from China University of Political Science in the late 80s, he entered a re-education center. After he’d been washed clean, he escaped from the center and began doing business. Twenty years after June Fourth, he’s still never been back to Tiananmen Square. Whenever he’s about to pass it in his car, he takes a detour. “After the gunfire of June Fourth, reform died,” Mr. Ma said.
The famous philosopher Li Ming is my good friend, despite our age difference. In the 80s, before his hair had turned gray, he was already known for his work on the editorial board of the Walking Towards the Future series. He told me he was the research director of Youth Political College during June Fourth. After the crackdown, he was fired from his job, then arrested. In all these years, he never received a single penny from the Communist Party. His pay suspended, Li Ming scraped by with translation and writing.
At the artists village in Songzhuang, I once shared drinks and conversation with the renowned poet Mang Ke. He told me how he returned to Beijing from abroad in early 1989 to celebrate the tenth anniversary of Today magazine. Along with Bei Dao and others like him, he added his name to an open letter calling for the release of Wei Jingsheng. After June Fourth, Mang Ke was detained at his home. A black bag was placed over his head and he was taken to a place he didn’t know. After two days, he was released. The people who took him said he was detained for his own safety. Afterwards, Mang Ke relied on painting to make a living.
Once at a teahouse, I spoke with a middle-aged businessman who had served twenty years in the army. When the topic of June Fourth came up, he couldn’t stop talking. At that time, he worked in the basement of the Tiananmen Square command center. He was in charge of intelligence collection. Hundreds of informants were sent out from the center every day. Every avenue and alley of Beijing was closely monitored. He said during that time, Mayor Chen Xitong would visit the command center almost daily.
Mr. Yu, a publisher in Beijing, is a friend from my hometown. He also told his June Fourth story to me.  That Year, he was teaching middle school in a remote village in Hubei Province. He was extremely depressed. During his time there, he wrote an essay titled “Where China Is Going?” He made ten mimeographed copies and gave them to his classmates and friends. As a result, he was reported to the authorities and arrested. He spent a year in a detention center before being released without ever having stood trial. “China’s detention centers are the cruelest places on earth,” he told me. “I crawled out of there.” After he left, he learned his grandmother, whom he loved dearly, passed away the very day he was detained. Some time later, his wife divorced him. He began to wander aimlessly.
The author Li Jianmang lives in Europe. I once met him during one of his trips back to Beijing. During June Fourth, a classmate of his, He Zhijing, who also happened to be the cousin of Beijing Film Academy professor He Jian, went missing. Later at the hospital, Li was saw He Zhijing’s body. He had been beaten to death. Li Jianmang said before all this his father wrote him a letter. “Don’t be a hero. When you hear the guns, hit the ground,” his father wrote. “My son, you do not know their ruthlessness.”
After the advent of Weibo I made many new friends online, some famous and some not. One of them is a Beijing girl named Keke who maintains a government website. She told me that during June Fourth she was in second grade. Keke’s birthday happens to fall on June 3. That Year on June 3, her family celebrated her birthday at her grandmother’s house. Afterward she walked from Hujialou to Gongzhufen. On the road, she saw buses on fire, roadblocks, twisted bicycle frames and pedestrians navigating their way through the carnage. It was a terrifying, unforgettable scene. Memories of June Fourth have lingered in her mind ever since. After getting on Weibo, she frequently posted images and documents from June Fourth. Her account was quickly shut down. She is reincarnated all the time.
My friend Hai Tao is a writer from the Beijing suburb of Tongzhou. He recalled to me that after June Fourth, the older men and women of town were sent to downtown Beijing everyday to dance and sing patriotic songs. When they became tired they wanted to buy popsicles, but the streets peddlers wouldn’t let them buy any. “You have no conscience,” the peddlers would say.

*                    *                    *

There are still many stories of Tiananmen to tell.
That year, the author Ye Fu worked as a police officer in Hainan. Facing the massacre, he cast away his uniform, submitted his resignation letter and bid farewell to the system forever. Then he was reported to the authorities in Wuhan and imprisoned. Then his mother drowned herself in the Yangtze River. Then he wrote his famous work, My Mother on the Yangtze…
That year, my friend Du Daobin left his hometown for the provincial capital of Wuhan to participate in the protests. Then he published some critical political commentary online. Then he was arrested. Then he became a famous dissident…
That year, many parents couldn’t find their children, many families lost their loved ones. That year, many talented people left the country, many people died away from home, never to return. That year, China became a broken world, a world of life and death, a watershed. That year, China’s twentieth century came to an end.
One afternoon in Spring 2010, I passed through the heart of Beijing on the subway, traveling from the eastern suburbs to the western neighborhood of Muxidi. Sitting on the side of the road in Muxidi, I thought about all the blood and tears shed some twenty years ago right there. I thought about the Tiananmen Mothers. I thought about the countrymen we lost forever. For a very, very long time, with a heavy heart, choking back tears, silently, I sat there until dusk. That afternoon, I quietly wrote this poem:

At Muxidi, Thinking of Someone
—for the Mother Ding Zilin
Today, I am at Muxidi
Thinking of someone
I don’t know him
But I will remember him forever
At this moment, I miss him
Like I would miss a long lost brother
That was twenty-one years ago
Right here, at Muxidi
An unforgettable place
That merciless summer
A single bullet
Passed through his body
His sixteen-year-old body
He let out his final scream
And then bid farewell to this world
This evil, gory and lie-filled world
He left
This sixteen-year-old youth
This eternal youth
He’ll never grow up
But we, in this world without him
Grow older by the day
Until the present
All these years
Seem like a century
No, many centuries
We watch ourselves grow old
But are powerless
We tell ourselves, we are alive
We need to live
And we tell ourselves we need to make peace with this world
But we know
We are not fated to make peace with this world
For no other reason
Only because of this young man
He will never grow up
So we must grow old
To grow old, is really to die
Today, at Muxidi
I am thinking of someone
I miss him
Like I would miss a long lost brother
A brother lost twenty-one years ago
I miss him
This eternal youth
I want to cry, but I cannot
I know we have no more tears
Even worse than having no tears
We don’t even have any blood
Our souls were hollowed long ago
In the gunfire, among the bullets
In twisted, hidden history
All we can still do
Is come here
Thinking of this youth
Like missing a long lost brother
A brother lost for 21 years
He never left
But we’ll never have him back

Time is like a murderer. Twenty-three years have flashed by. Countless countrymen have forgotten, countless others have remembered. I am from the post-June Fourth generation. On this twenty-third anniversary, I earnestly write this record, like putting my heart on an altar of blood. I do this for nothing more than the justice we are yet to receive. I believe blood was not spilt in vain. Judgment will surely come.

June 4, 2012, on the banks of the Xiang River, Hunan

arOCCUPY May Day

Goddess of Democracy, 4Gentlemen, Red Square, Moscow Russia, 2012.

arOCCUPY May Day is a non-violent action meant to send a message to the 1%. Augmented art works from around the world will take over the financial district on May 1st. The global community will be heard in the heart land of the 1%. arOCCUPY May Day is being organized by Mark Skwarek (US) and Warren Armstrong (AU) from ManifestAR and Augmented Reality Activists.

Artwork reflecting Organ Harvest in China

Chinese Takeout

Artists: 4 Gentleman

Year of Production: 2012

Medium: Digital Art

Dimension: Varied

Statement

The work visualizes gruesome reality that Chinese government has been systematically harvesting organs from live Falungong practitioners for profit.

The inhuman practices were exposed by David Matas and David Kilgour's investigation report Bloody Harvest in 2007. In 2012, this issue again came to light when a Chinese official, who fled to U.S. Consulate in Chengdu, revealed evidences of human rights violations in China, in exchange for political asylum. However, this topic remains a taboo among Chinese intellectuals fearing persecution by the Party. While the country set new regulations prioritizing organ transplantation operation for domestic patients, demands from foreigners has driven the 'market' initially and continuously. We therefore intent to arouse greater awareness within the international community by visualizing the issue with art. 

Find more at: http://augmentationistinternational.wordpress.com/2012/05/28/chinese-take-out/

Public Art in the Virtual Sphere & I'm Crime

4Gentlemen's Augmented Reality art was exhibited and reviewed at following events in CA recently:

CAA Los Angles panel discussion on Mobile Art:

Public Art in the Virtual Sphere

Physical and Virtual versions of the Goddess of Democracy sculpture.

LOS ANGELES, February 23 — CAA Panel: Public Art Dialog: Public Art in the Virtual Sphere

During this panel John Craig Freeman told a story, the most remarkable testament to Augmented Reality (AR) as an art & culture medium that I’ve ever heard: During the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989, protesters created “The Goddess of Democracy,” a 10-meter-tall (33 ft) statue. A couple of decades later, 4Gentlemen created a virtual Goddess of Democracy and placed an Augmented Reality version at the precise location of the original inTiananmen Square. That’s very cool. But what is extraordinary is that during the protests in Tahrir Square, Cairo last year, 4Gentlemen took the digital Goddess of Democracy object and AR placed her in physical Tahrir Square. Incredible! (read more)

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SOMARTS ART CENTER

http://www.somarts.org/iamcrime/

I AM CRIME: ART ON THE EDGE OF LAW

I Am Crime: Art on the Edge of Law is an exhibition of more than 30 artists and collectives that challenge, question or circumvent the law through their work.  Curated by Justin Hoover, I Am Crimetouches on issues of equity—who gets to break the law, when, and why.

“True Crime,” a collaborative installation conceived by Critical Art Ensemble, invites any visitor to become part of the exhibition– click here for details.

In I Am Crime some artists’ criminal trespasses are virtual or accidental, while others contribute documentation of carefully planned civil disobedience. Still others exhibit the residue of artworks which have actually been intervened upon by the United States legal system.

Dreamers Adrift, a group founded by Jesus Iñiguez and Julio Salgado, approach  illegality from a different angle. “Undocumented and Awkward,” a series of skits on video created by and for undocumented youth, highlights social inequalities faced by American immigrants.

Non-anonymous exhibiting artists include:

4Gentlemen	Scott Kildall
E. Clair Acuda Bandersnatch	Stewart Long
Miguel Arzabe	Mark McCloud
Ray Beldner	Ann Messner
Francis Baker	Julio Cesar Morales
Oscar Brett	Jeremy Novy
Lisa K. Blatt	Nite Owl
Mike Bonanno	Guy Overfelt
Danny Buskirk	PLOTS
Susie Cagle	Neil Rivas (Clavo)
Critical Art Ensemble/Steve Kurtz	Favianna Rodriguez
Marque Cornblatt	Victoria Scott
Dreamers Adrift	Julio Salgado
Corbett Griffith	Eric Stewart
John Craig Freeman	Luther Thie
Molly Hankwitz	Zefrey Throwell
Jessica Hess	Hans Winkler
Jesus Iñiguez	The Yes Men
Lily & Honglei	Michael Zheng
Scott Kildall

Human Rights World Report 2012 - China

 http://www.hrw.org/world-report-2012:

Against a backdrop of rapid socio-economic change and modernization, China continues to be an authoritarian one-party state that imposes sharp curbs on freedom of expression, association, and religion; openly rejects judicial independence and press freedom; and arbitrarily restricts and suppresses human rights defenders and organizations, often through extra-judicial measures. The government also censors the internet; maintains highly repressive policies in ethnic minority areas such as Tibet, Xinjiang, and Inner Mongolia; systematically condones—with rare exceptions—abuses of power in the name of “social stability”; and rejects domestic and international scrutiny of its human rights record as attempts to destabilize and impose “Western values” on the country. The security apparatus—hostile to liberalization and legal reform—seems to have steadily increased its power since the 2008 Beijing Olympics. China’s “social stability maintenance” expenses are now larger than its defense budget. At the same time Chinese citizens are increasingly rights-conscious and challenging the authorities over livelihood issues, land seizures, forced evictions, abuses of power by corrupt cadres, discrimination, and economic inequalities. Official and scholarly statistics estimate that 250-500 protests occur per day; participants number from ten to tens of thousands. Internet users and reformoriented media are aggressively pushing the boundaries of censorship, despite the risks of doing so, by advocating for the rule of law and transparency, exposing official wrong-doing, and calling for reforms.

Despite their precarious legal status and surveillance by the authorities, civil society groups continue to try to expand their work, and increasingly engage with international NGOs. A small but dedicated network of activists continues to exposes abuses as part of the weiquan (“rights defense”)movement, despite systematic repression ranging from police monitoring to detention, arrest, enforced disappearance, and torture.

Human Rights Defenders

In February 2011, unnerved by the pro-democracy Arab Spring movements and a scheduled Chinese leadership transition in October 2012, the government launched the largest crackdown on human rights lawyers, activists, and critics in a decade. The authorities also strengthened internet and press censorship, put the activities of many dissidents and critics under surveillance, restricted their activities, and took the unprecedented step of rounding up over 30 of the most outspoken critics and “disappearing” them for weeks.

The April 3 arrest of contemporary artist and outspoken government critic Ai Weiwei, who was detained in an undisclosed location without access to a lawyer, prompted an international outcry and contributed to his release on bail on June 22. Tax authorities notified him on November 1 that he had to pay US$2.4 million in tax arrears and fines for the company registered in his wife’s name. Most of the other activists were also ultimately released, but forced to adopt a much less vocal stance for fear of further reprisals. Several lawyers detained in 2011, including Liu Shihui, described being interrogated, tortured, threatened, and released only upon signing “confessions” and pledges not to use Twitter, or talk to media, human rights groups, or foreign diplomats about their detention.

The government continues to impose indefinite house arrest on its critics. Liu Xia, the wife of imprisoned Nobel Peace Laureate Liu Xiaobo, has been missing since December 2010 and is believed to be under house arrest to prevent her from campaigning on her husband’s behalf. In February 2011 she said in a brief online exchange that she and her family were like “hostages” and that she felt “miserable.” She is allowed to visit Liu Xiaobo once a month, subject to agreement from the prison authorities.

Chen Guangcheng, a blind legal activist who was released from prison in September 2010, remained under house arrest in 2011. Security personnel assaulted Chen and his wife in February after he released footage documenting his family’s house arrest. Noted activist Hu Jia, who was released after completing a three-and-a-half-year prison sentence in June, is also under house arrest in Beijing, the capital, with his activist wife Zeng Jinyan and their daughter.
Grave concerns exist about the fate of lawyer Gao Zhisheng, who was “disappeared” by the authorities in September 2009 and briefly surfaced in March 2010 detailing severe and continuous torture against him, before going missing again that April.

On June 12, 2011, despite the steady deterioration in China’s human rights environment, the Chinese government declared it had fulfilled “all tasks and targets” of its National Human Rights Action Plans (2009-2010).

Legal Reforms

While legal awareness among citizens continues to grow, the government’s overt hostility towards genuine judicial independence undercuts legal reform and defeats efforts to limit the Chinese Communist Party’s authority over all judicial institutions and mechanisms.

The police dominate the criminal justice system, which relies disproportionately on defendants’ confessions. Weak courts and tight limits on the rights of the defense mean that forced confessions under torture remain prevalent and miscarriages of justice frequent. In August 2011, in an effort to reduce such cases and improve the administration of justice, the government published new rules to eliminate unlawfully obtained evidence and strengthened the procedural rights of the defense in its draft revisions to the Criminal Procedure Law. It is likely it will be adopted in March 2012.

However, the draft revisions also introduced an alarming provision that would effectively legalize enforced disappearances by allowing police to secretly detain suspects for up to six months at a location of their choice in “state security, terrorism and major corruption cases.” The measure would put suspects at great risk of torture while giving the government justification for the “disappearance” of dissidents and activists in the future. Adoption of this measure—which is hotly criticized in Chinese media by human rights lawyers, activists, and part of the legal community—would significantly deviate from China’s previous stance of gradual convergence with international norms on administering justice, such as the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which China signed in 1997 but has yet to ratify.

China continued in 2011 to lead the world in executions. The exact number remains a state secret but is estimated to range from 5,000 to 8,000 a year.

Freedom of Expression

The government continued in 2011 to violate domestic and international legal guarantees of freedom of press and expression by restricting bloggers, journalists, and an estimated more than 500 million internet users. The government requires internet search firms and state media to censor issues deemed officially “sensitive,” and blocks access to foreign websites including Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube. However, the rise of Chinese online social networks—in particularly Sina’s Weibo, which has 200 million users—has created a new platform for citizens to express opinions and to challenge official limitations on freedom of speech despite intense scrutiny by China’s censors.

On January 30 official concern about Egyptian anti-government protests prompted a ban on internet searches for “Egypt.” On February 20 internet rumors about a Chinese “Jasmine Revolution” resulted in a ban on web searches for “jasmine.” In August a cascade of internet criticism of the government’s response to the July 23 Wenzhou train crash prompted the government to warn of new penalties, including suspension of microblog access, against bloggers who transmit “false or misleading information.”

Ambiguous “inciting subversion” and “revealing state secrets” laws contributed to the imprisonment of at least 34 Chinese journalists. Those jailed include Qi Chonghuai, originally sentenced to a four-year prison term in August 2008 for “extortion and blackmail” after exposing government corruption in his home province of Shandong. His prison sentence was extended in June for eight years when the same court found him guilty of fresh charges of extortion and “embezzlement.”

Censorship restrictions continue to pose a threat to journalists whose reporting oversteps official guidelines. In May Southern Metropolis Daily editor Song Zhibiao was demoted as a reprisal for criticism of the government’s 2008 Sichuan earthquake recovery efforts. In June the government threatened to blacklist journalists guilty of “distorted” reporting of food safety scandals. In July the China Economic Times disbanded its investigative unit, an apparent response to official pressure against its outspoken reporting on official malfeasance. Physical violence against journalists who report on “sensitive” topics remained a problem in 2011. On June 1, plainclothes Beijing police assaulted and injured two Beijing Times reporters who refused to delete photos they had taken at the scene of a stabbing. The two officers were subsequently suspended. On September 19 Li Xiang, a reporter with Henan province’s Luoyang Television, was stabbed to death in what has been widely speculated was retaliation for his exposé of a local food safety scandal. Police have arrested two suspects and insist that Li’s murder was due to a robbery.

Police deliberately targeted foreign correspondents with physical violence at the site of a rumored anti-government protest in Beijing on February 27. A video journalist at the scene required medical treatment for severe bruising and possible internal injuries after men who appeared to be plain clothes security officers repeatedly punched and kicked him in the face. Uniformed police manhandled, detained, and delayed more than a dozen other foreign media at the scene.

Government and security bureaus prevented the biennial Beijing Queer Film Festival from screening in Beijing’s Xicheng District. Parts of the festival were held surreptitiously in community venues.

Freedom of Religion

The Chinese government limits religious practices to officially-approved temples, monasteries, churches, and mosques despite a constitutional guarantee of freedom of religion. Religious institutions must submit data—including financial records, activities, and employee details—for periodic official audits. The government also reviews seminary applications and religious publications, and approves all religious personnel appointments. Protestant “house churches” and other unregistered spiritual organizations are considered illegal and their members subject to prosecution and fines. The Falun Gong and some other groups are deemed “evil cults” and members risk intimidation, harassment, and arrest.

In April the government pressured the landlord of the Beijing Shouwang Church, a “house church” with 1,000 congregants, to evict the church from its location in a Beijing restaurant. Over the course of at least five Sundays in April and May, the Shouwang congregation held its services in outdoor locations, attracting police attention and resulting in the temporary detention of more than 100 of its members.

The government continues to heavily restrict religious activities in the name of security in ethnic minority areas. See sections below on Tibet and Xinjiang.

Health

On August 2 the government announced the closure of 583 battery-recycling factories linked to widespread lead poisoning. However, it has failed to substantively recognize and address abuses including denial of treatment for child lead poisoning victims and harassment of parents seeking legal redress that Human Rights Watch uncovered in a June 2011 report of lead poisoning in Henan, Yunnan, Shaanxi, and Hunan.

People with HIV/AIDS continued to face discrimination. In September an HIVpositive female burn victim was denied treatment at three hospitals in Guangdong province due to stigma about her status. On September 8 an HIVpositive school teacher launched a wrongful dismissal suit against the Guizhou provincial government after it refused to hire him on April 3 due to his HIV status.

Disability Rights

The Chinese government is inadequately protecting the rights of people with disabilities, despite its ratification of the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD), and its forthcoming review by the treaty’s monitoring body.

In September a group of part-time teachers with disabilities requested that China’s Ministry of Education lift restrictions imposed by 20 cities and provinces on full-time employment of teachers with physical disabilities. On September 7, Henan officials freed 30 people with mental disabilities who had been abducted and trafficked into slave labor conditions in illegal brick kiln factories in the province. The discovery cast doubt on official efforts to end such abuses in the wake of a similar scandal in Shaanxi in 2007.

On August 10 the Chinese government invited public comment on its longawaited draft mental health law. Domestic legal experts warn the draft contains potentially serious risks to the rights of persons with mental disabilities, including involuntary institutionalization, forced treatment and deprivation of legal capacity.

Migrant and Labor Rights

Lack of meaningful union representation remained an obstacle to systemic improvement in workers’ wages and conditions in 2011.The government prohibits independent labor unions, so the official All-China Federation of Trade Unions (ACFTU) is the sole legal representative of China’s workers. A persistent labor shortage linked to changing demographics—official statistics indicate that nationwide job vacancies outpaced available workers by five percent in the first three months of 2011—has led to occasional reports of rising wages and improved benefits for some workers.

In January a government survey of migrant workers indicated that the hukou (household registration) system continued to impose systemic discrimination on migrants. Survey respondents blamed the hukou system, which the government has repeatedly promised to abolish, for unfairly limiting their access to housing, medical services, and education. In August 2011 the Beijing city government ordered the closure of 24 illegal private schools that catered to migrant children. Most found alternate schools, although an estimated 10 to 20 percent had to be separated from their parents and sent to their hukou-linked rural hometowns due to their parents’ inability to secure suitable and affordable schooling in Beijing.

Women’s Rights

Women’s reproductive rights remain severely curtailed in 2011 under China’s family planning regulations. Administrative sanctions, fines, and forced abortions continue to be imposed, if somewhat erratically, on rural women, including when they become migrant laborers in urban or manufacturing areas, and are increasingly extended to ethnic minority areas such as Tibet and Xinjiang. These policies contribute to an increasing gender-imbalance (118.08 males for every 100 females according to the 2010 census), which in turn fuels trafficking and prostitution.

Sex workers, numbering four to ten million, remain a particularly vulnerable segment of the population due to the government’s harsh policies and regular mobilization campaigns to crack down on prostitution.

Although the government acknowledges that domestic violence, employment discrimination, and discriminatory social attitudes remain acute and widespread problems, it continues to stunt the development of independent women’s rights groups and discourages public interest litigation. A new interpretation of the country’s Marriage Law by the Supreme People’s Court in August 2011 might further exacerbate the gender wealth gap by stating that after divorce, marital property belongs solely to the person who took out a mortgage and registered as the homeowner, which in most cases is the husband.

Illegal Adoptions and Child Trafficking

On August 16 the Chinese government announced it would tighten rules to prevent illegal adoptions and child trafficking. Revised Registration Measures for the Adoption of Children by Chinese Citizens were expected to be introduced by the end of 2011 and would restrict the source of adoptions to orphanages, rather than hospitals or other institutions. The planned rule change follows revelations in May 2011 that members of a government family planning unit in Hunan had kidnapped and trafficked at least 15 babies to couples in the United States and Holland for US$3,000 each between 2002 and 2005. A subsequent police investigation determined there had been no illegal trafficking, despite testimony from parents who insist their children were abducted and subsequently trafficked overseas.

Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity

In 1997 the government decriminalized homosexual conduct and in 2001 ceased to classify homosexuality as a mental illness. However, police continue to occasionally raid popular gay venues in what activists describe as deliberate harassment. Same-sex relationships are not legally recognized, adoption rights are denied to people in same-sex relationships, and there are no anti-discrimination laws based on sexual orientation. On April 4, 2011, Shanghai police raided Q Bar, a popular gay venue, alleging it was staging “pornographic shows.” Police detained more than 60 people, including customers and bar staff, and released them later that day. High-profile public support for overcoming social and official prejudice against lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) people is increasingly common. On July 5 a China Central Television talk show host criticized homophobic online comments posted by a famous Chinese actress and urged respect for the LGBT community.

Tibet

The situation in the Tibet Autonomous Region (TAR) and the neighboring Tibetan autonomous areas of Qinghai, Sichuan, Gansu, and Yunnan province, remained tense in 2011 following the massive crackdown on popular protests that swept the plateau in 2008. Chinese security forces maintain a heavy presence and the authorities continue to tightly restrict access and travel to Tibetan areas, particularly for journalists and foreign visitors. Tibetans suspected of being critical of political, religious, cultural, or economic state policies are targeted on charges of “separatism.”

The government continues to build a “new socialist countryside” by relocating and rehousing up to 80 percent of the TAR population, including all pastoralists and nomads.

The Chinese government has given no indication it would accommodate the aspirations of Tibetan people for greater autonomy, even within the narrow confines of the country’s autonomy law on ethnic minorities’ areas. It has rejected holding negotiations with the new elected leader of the Tibetan community in exile, Lobsang Sangay, and warned that it would designate the next Dalai Lama itself.

In August Sichuan authorities imposed heavy prison sentences on three ethnic Tibetan monks from the Kirti monastery for assisting another monk who selfimmolated in protest in March. Ten more Tibetan monks and one nun had selfimmolated through mid-November, all expressing their desperation over the lack of religious freedom.

Xinjiang

The Urumqi riots of July 2009—the most deadly episode of ethnic unrest in recent Chinese history—continued to cast a shadow over developments in the Xinjiang Uighur Autonomous Region. The government has not accounted for hundreds of persons detained after the riots, nor investigated the serious allegations of torture and ill-treatment of detainees that have surfaced in testimonies of refugees and relatives living outside China. The few publicized trials of suspected rioters were marred by restrictions on legal representation, overt politicization of the judiciary, and failure to publish notification of the trials and to hold genuinely open trials as mandated by law.

Several violent incidents occurred in the region in 2011, though culpability remains unclear. On July 12 the government said it had killed 14 Uighur attackers who had overrun a police station in Hetian and were holding several hostages. On July 30 and 31 a series of knife and bomb attacks took place in Kashgar. In both cases the government blamed Islamist extremists. In mid- August it launched a two-month “strike hard” campaign aimed at “destroying a number of violent terrorist groups and ensuring the region’s stability.” Under the guise of counterterrorism and anti-separatism efforts, the government also maintains a pervasive system of ethnic discrimination against Uighurs and other ethnic minorities, along with sharp curbs on religious and cultural expression and politically motivated arrests.

The first national Work Conference on Xinjiang, held in 2010, endorsed economic measures that may generate revenue but are likely to further marginalize ethnic minorities. By the end of 2011, 80 percent of traditional neighborhoods in the ancient Uighur city of Kashgar will have been razed. Many Uighur inhabitants have been forcibly evicted and relocated to make way for a new city likely to be dominated by the Han population.

Hong Kong

Hong Kong immigration authorities’ refusal in 2011 to grant entry to several visitors critical of the Chinese government’s human rights record raised concerns that the territory’s autonomy was being eroded. Concerns about police powers also continue to grow following heavy restrictions imposed on students and media during the visit of a Chinese state leader in September 2011.

The status of migrant domestic workers in Hong Kong was strengthened in September when a court judged that rules excluding those workers from seeking the right of abode were unconstitutional. However, the Hong Kong government suggested it would appeal to Beijing for a review, further eroding the territory’s judicial autonomy.

Key International Actors

Despite voting in favor of a Security Council resolution referring Libya to the International Criminal Court (ICC) in February, the Chinese government continued to ignore or undermine international human rights norms and institutions. In June, amidst outcry against the visit, China hosted Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir, who is wanted by the ICC on charges of war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide. In 2011 it significantly increased pressure on governments in Central and Southeast Asia to forcibly return Uighur refugees, leading to the refoulement of at least 20 people, and in October prevailed upon the South African government to deny a visa to the Dalai Lama, who wished to attend the birthday celebrations of Archbishop Desmond Tutu. That same month it exercised a rare veto together with Russia at the Security Council to help defeat a resolution condemning gross human rights abuses in Syria.

Although several dozen governments attended the 2010 Nobel Peace Prize ceremonies honoring activist Liu Xiaobo, relatively few engaged in effective advocacy on behalf of human rights in China during 2011. While the US emphasized human rights issues during Hu Jintao’s January state visit to Washington, that emphasis—and the attention of other governments—declined precipitously once the Arab Spring began, making it easier for the Chinese government to silence dissent. Few audibly continued their calls for the release of Liu and others. Perhaps demonstrating the influence of growing popular objections to abusive Chinese investment projects, the Burmese government made a surprise announcement in September that it would suspend the primarily Chinesebacked and highly controversial Myitsone Dam. In Zambia, Chinese-run mining firms announced a sudden wage increase following the election of the opposition Patriotic Front, which had campaigned in part on securing minimum wage guarantees.

I Am Crime

Mobile phone screenshot: Goddess of Democracy, in front of SOMart gallery building, San Francisco

Goddess of Democracy, in SOMart gallery, San Francisco

Tank Man, in SOMart gallery, San Francisco

Tank Man, in front of SOMart gallery building, San Francisco

Tiananmen SquARed
By 4Gentlemen

Tiananmen SquARed is a two part augmented reality public art project and memorial, dedicated human rights and democracy world-wide. The project includes virtual replicas of the Goddess of Democracy and Tank Man from the 1989 student uprising in Tiananmen Square. Both augmentations have been placed in Beijing at the precise GPS coordinates where the original incidents took place.

The Goddess of Democracy was a 33-foot tall statue, constructed in only four days out of foam and papier-mâché over a metal armature. Students from an art institute created the statue, placing it to face toward a huge picture of the late Communist Party chairman Mao Zedong. Tanks later flattened the statue when China’s military crushed the protest.

Tank Man was an anonymous man who stood in front of a column of Chinese Type 59 tanks the morning after the Chinese military forcibly removed protestors from in and around Beijing’s Tiananmen Square on June 5, 1989. The man achieved widespread international recognition due to the videotape and photographs taken of the incident.

Although it has been more than twenty years since Tiananman Protest took place, the authorities  persistently use all means possible to erase the fact that the Chinese people pursued democracy in this democratic and anti-corruption movement. Today in China, young people are not aware of the courageous actions that Tank Man and the Goddess of Democracy represent. Nonetheless, history should not be forgotten.

Information and communication technologies have inspired people to express their thoughts freely. We as artists, taking advantages of the development  of mobile phone technology and smartphone applications, have revived the history of 1989 Tiananman Protest that  has tremendous implications waiting  for further examinations by our contemporaries.

Once the audience downloads the Layar Augmented Reality Browser to their Android or iPhone, he or she could stand in Tiananmen Square and point their device’s camera towards the northern side of the plaza where the Goddess of Democracy was originally erected. The application uses geolocation software to superimpose a computer generated 3D graphic of the Goddess of Democracy at the precise GPS coordinates of the original, enabling them to see the augmentation integrated into the physical location as if it existed in the real world. Similarly, the Tank Man augmentation would be placed on Chang’an Avenue northeast of Tiananmen Square in the exact location of the original event. Both augmentations will appear in the original scale and orientation.

Both virtual objects have been place at SOMArts in San Francisco as part of the I Am Crime exhibition.

Communist Leaders' Portraits Unveiled in Tibet on Lunar New Year Eve

New Tang Dynasty TV posted a video today, in which they outline a policy that will bring an abundance of CCP symbols to Tibetan populated areas. From the transcript:

January 22nd, 2012, the eve of Chinese New Year. Chinese officials in the Tibet Autonomous Region held a ceremony to unveil a portrait of four Communist leaders: Mao Zedong, Deng Xiaoping, Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao. They go on to state that they will send these portraits, as well as Communist flags, to villages, homes, and temples in the region.
[...]In December 2011, authorities in Tibet introduced the “Nine Must-Haves” policy. It dictates nine items that all temples must display or carry portraits of Communist leaders, the Communist flag and a copy of the state-run People’s Daily.

Crazy Crab, the artist responsible for the Hexie Farm satirical cartoons, has been aiming many of his recent pieces at the situation in Tibet. His latest addition ridicules the “Nine-Must-Haves” policy:

Exposing CPC Tyranny and Running to the Free World: My Statement on Leaving China

Yu Jie

January 18, 2012

[English Translation by Human Rights in China]

In the afternoon of January 11, 2012 in the Beijing airport, my family of three boarded a plane bound for the United States. We were escorted from our home to the boarding gate by five state security officers who then demanded to take a photo with me, after which they stalked off.

The choice to leave China was a difficult one for me to make. It also took a very long time.

Since I published Fire and Ice (火与冰) in 1998 when I was still in university, I have been closely watched by the Central Propaganda Department and police. After receiving an M.A. from Peking University in 2000, I was unable to find a job due to governmental interference and had to make a living as a “not-free writer.” During the Jiang Zemin era [1989-2002], I had been able to publish some of my works in China—there was still a certain space for free speech in China. After Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao took power in 2004, I was totally blocked. Since that time, no media in mainland China would print a single word by me, and articles by others which mentioned my name would be deleted. Though I was physically in China, I became an “exile at heart” and a “non-existent person” in the public space.

Despite that, I still did not stop writing. As an independent intellectual, I continued to criticize the CPC's autocratic system and became good friends with Liu Xiaobo, with whom I fought side by side. I have published fifteen or so books and over a thousand articles overseas. For this, I have been repeatedly harassed—summoned, placed under house arrest, threatened—and things worsened over time. In those years, during my visits to the U.S. and Europe, my friends would try to persuade me to stay, but I would answer, “So long as my life is not in danger, I will not leave China.” As a writer, freedom of speech and the freedom to publish are most fundamental. As a Christian, freedom of religion is essential. As an ordinary person, the freedom to live without fear is indispensable.

But I lost these most basic freedoms on October 8, 2010, after they announced that my best friend Liu Xiaobo was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize; illegal house arrests, torture, surveillance, tracking, and being taken on “trips” became part of my everyday life. After over a year of inhumane treatment and painful struggle, I had no choice but to leave China, to make a complete break from the fascist, barbaric, and brutal regime of the Communist Party of China.

This is what I have experienced over the past year: On October 8, 2010, the day that the Nobel Peace Prize for Liu Xiaobo was announced, I was on a visit to the U.S. I had given a speech at University of Southern California that day and heard the news that night. I was immensely excited and encouraged at the time, and immediately began preparations to return to China. Some friends warned me that the government must be in a rage from the humiliation, and, as a result, the human rights situation in China would worsen rapidly, and tried to persuade me to remain in the U.S. for a while. But for a decade, Liu Xiaobo had been my brother and closest friend; when he was the president of the Independent Chinese PEN Center, I was vice president; and I had personally experienced almost all of the human rights activities that he participated in. After Liu Xiaobo was arrested in December 2008, I was authorized by his wife, Liu Xia, to write his biography. That was why I urgently wanted to return to China and continue with my interviews of Liu's friends and family, so that I could complete this important work as soon as possible.

On October 13, five days after the Nobel Peace Prize was announced, I returned to China. As soon as I stepped off the plane, I was put under house arrest by Beijing’s state security officers. Four plainclothes policemen watched the entrance to my home 24 hours a day, even pressing a table against the main door and installing six cameras and infrared detectors at the front and back of my house. They surrounded us like a dragnet, as if facing a formidable foe.

For the first few days my wife was still able to go to work. Liu Xia had asked Liu Xiaobo’s brother and my wife to buy some clothing and food for Liu Xiaobo. Unfortunately, one day the police found a note from Liu Xia to my wife when searching Liu’s brother. After that, my wife's mobile phone was abruptly shut down and she was similarly put under house arrest round-the-clock and not allowed to go to work.

One day, my wife got sick with a fever of over 40 °C [104 °F]; though she was nearly unconscious, the police would not allow her to go to the hospital. A state security officer from the Chaoyang District Public Security Bureau named Hao Qi (郝琪) threatened viciously, “Even if you die at home, I wouldn't let you out. If you die, someone from the higher up will come and deal with it!” Extremely anxious, I turned to the Internet for help, and a kind friend saw my call for help on Twitter and called an ambulance. But the police still blocked the medics at the door. Thankfully, the doctor persisted and eventually they were allowed in to take my wife's temperature. The doctor said that her temperature was dangerously high and that she must go to the hospital for IV treatment. After several rounds of negotiations, my wife was finally taken to the hospital in the ambulance in early morning. Six police officers followed her closely, but I was not allowed to go with my wife.

The situation only continued to worsen. At the beginning of November, my phone, Internet, and mobile services were all cut off, so no one could contact us; my wife and I were at home in a state of total isolation. The everyday items that we needed, we could only write them down on a piece of paper and the state security officers would buy them for us, and then we would pay them. We did not know anything that was happening outside. We could not contact our parents or our child. This continued day after day, and we did not know when it would end and felt that it was even worse than being in prison. In prison, you have a specific prison term; you have the right to family visits; and each day you are let out for exercise. But we had basically fallen into an endless black hole, and every day felt like a year. This continued for almost two months.

December 9, the day before the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony, was the darkest moment in my life. Just after 1 p.m., Wang Chunhui (王春辉), a state security officer from Chaoyang District whom I had been in contact with regularly, knocked on my door with Deputy Director Ma of the Dougezhuang substation—my local police station—and said, “Our boss wants to talk to you.” I did not suspect at all that this was a trap; I put on a coat over my house clothes and went with them.

I realized as soon as I went downstairs that something was up.  Over a dozen plainclothes officers and several cars were waiting there. Immediately, two burly men charged at me, slapping the glasses from my face and covering my head with a black hood, and then forcing me into the back of a car. The car left at once, and two plainclothes officers sat on either side of me, twisting my hands, not allowing me to move.

After more than an hour, we arrived at some secret location. One of the state security officers wedged my head under his armpit and dragged me into a room. They ordered me to sit on a chair and not move—if I did, they'd beat me. I was wearing the black hood the entire time, so breathing was very difficult.

At around 10 p.m., they removed the black hood. Just as I was taking a breath, several of the plainclothes officials came at me again and began beating me in the head and the face without explanation. They stripped off all my clothes and pushed me, naked, to the ground, and kicked me maniacally. They also had a camera and were taking pictures as I was being beaten, saying with glee that they would post the naked photos online.

They forced me to kneel and slapped me over a hundred times in the face. They even forced me to slap myself. They would be satisfied only when they heard the slapping sound, and laughed madly. They also kicked me in the chest and then stood on me after I had fallen to the ground. One of my ribs hurt for a month, as if broken; even bending to get out of bed was very difficult.

They forced me to spread out my hands and bent my fingers backwards one by one. They said, “You've written many articles attacking the Communist Party with these hands, so we want to break your fingers one by one.” They also brought lit cigarette butts near my face, causing my skin to burn with pain, and they insultingly blew their cigarette smoke in my face.

They verbally abused me nonstop with vulgar language, calling me a traitor to the state and to the Chinese people, and trash. They also insulted my friends and family. Then they forced me to use their words to insult myself; if I did not, they would beat and kick me harder.

The head state security officer announced, “There are three charges against you: one, you took an active part over the past ten years in all of the reactionary things that Liu Xiaobo had done; you both were tools of imperialism used to subvert China. Two, in a book you published in Hong Kong, China’s Best Actor: Wen Jiabao (中国影帝温家宝), you viciously attacked a leader of the Party and state; you did not listen to any of our good advice, so we can only use violence against you. Three, you’re even writing Liu Xiaobo’s biography; if you publish this book, we’re definitely going to send you to jail.”

He went on, “If the order comes from above, we can dig a pit to bury you alive in half an hour, and no one on earth would know. Right now, foreigners are awarding Liu Xiaobo the Nobel Peace Prize, humiliating our Party and government. We’ll pound you to death to avenge this.” He added, “As far as we, state security, can tell, there are no more than 200 intellectuals in the country who oppose the Communist Party and are influential. If the central authorities think that their rule is facing a crisis, they can capture them all in one night and bury them alive.”

I do not know for how many hours the physical and verbal abuse continued. Then I fainted and my body would not stop twitching. They drove me to a hospital to try to rescue me. At that time, I was largely unconscious and only heard hazily that this was a hospital in Changping in the outskirts of Beijing. I heard the doctor say that I was severely injured, that they didn’t have the wherewithal to treat me, and that the police had to try at a larger hospital in the city. The police said, “Then you send him in an ambulance; we’ll pay.” The doctor said, “Our ambulance doesn’t have the equipment he needs. You need to immediately get one from the city that has emergency care equipment, otherwise he won’t be saved.”

Soon, an ambulance from the city arrived and took me to a hospital for Party elites, Beijing Hospital. The police gave me the fake name of Li Li (李力) and told the hospital, “This man is having epileptic seizures.”

I was wrestled from the brink of death after several hours of emergency treatment. Early the next morning, a doctor came to my room on his rounds and asked about my condition. Just as I struggled to say, “They beat me,” a policeman beside me quickly pulled the doctor aside. Another leaned close and hissed into my ear, “If you talk this kind of nonsense again, we’ll pull out all the tubes from your body and let you die.”

In the afternoon of December 10, they said that I was out of danger, so they checked me out of the hospital and took me to the hotel next door, where I rested for the afternoon. That night they told me that their boss wanted to see me, so they took me to another suite. The official who came to see me said his name was Yu and he was the deputy director of the Beijing Municipal Public Security Bureau and head of the State Security Brigade. He said deceitfully, “What happened yesterday was a misunderstanding—my subordinates’ mistakes. Don’t tell anyone outside about this.” For the next few days, I stayed in a place on the outskirts of Beijing that they had arranged. There they interrogated me every day about what I had done over the past few years, what I had written. They forced me to write a statement of promises, including not meeting with foreign reporters, not accepting interviews, not contacting anyone from the foreign embassies, and not criticizing by name the nine members of the Standing Committee [of the CPC’s Politburo] in my articles.

On December 13, 2010, I was released. For the following two weeks, my wife and I were able to leave our home, though we had to inform the state security officers stationed downstairs on a 24-hour watch where we were going and when we would return home. At the end of December, I went to my hometown in Sichuan, and they escorted me to the airport. I stayed there at my former home for four months. While I was there, state security officers would come by every half month or so to interrogate me about what I was up to.  Someone who said his name was Jiang and that he was a department head, another person who said his name was Zhang and that he was a section chief, and some other junior officers—they were the “team” in charge of my case.

For the following year, at any “sensitive moment,” such as a holiday, a memorial day, an opening day for a major governmental meeting, or a day when foreign dignitaries would be visiting, I would be illegally placed under house arrest in my home or asked to leave the city on a trip. This happened nearly every few days, so for nearly half the time I lost my freedom totally or partially. I was also forced to stop publishing articles overseas almost entirely, because every time I published an article, state security would come to my door at once with threats. There are three people in my family, but we were forced to live in three separate places: I was put under surveillance away from home; my wife worked in Beijing; and my son was being cared for by my parents in my hometown in Sichuan. Soon my wife lost her job because state security police put pressures on her company three times, and this was not the first time this kind of thing occurred. Most of the time, I was also unable to go to church or attend Bible study meetings and could not regularly practice my faith as a Christian. To me, this was an extremely painful thing.

During this time of great difficulty, when even the basic way of life could not continue, when the family could not live together, when I lost my freedom to write totally, when personal safety could not be guaranteed, and after persisting for 14 years as an intellectual in China speaking the truth, I was forced to make the decision to leave China.

However, in summer 2011, when I made the request to go abroad with state security authorities, they informed me that their superiors would not permit me and my wife to leave the country. We talked back and forth until finally I was told that they would consider my request after Christmas. After Christmas, I bought plane tickets to the U.S. and told the state security police that I would go no matter what, and if they detained me at the airport, I would do everything in my power to resist and tell everything. They said that they would do their best to get their superiors to remove the ban on my wife and me to leave the country.

On January 9, two days before I was to leave for the U.S., Jiang, the department head at the Beijing State Security Brigade, informed me the new deputy director of the Beijing Municipal Public Security Bureau (and head of the State Security Brigade) wanted to see me. On January 10, they took me to a suite in a hotel. The official said his name was Liu and was the successor to Yu, the official I had met previously. He told me to write a letter of guarantee, and then they would consider my request. He said, “China is growing stronger by the day, while the U.S. is getting weaker by the day, so why go there?” Would he dare question Vice President Xi Jinping about his sending his daughter to Harvard to study?

After finishing the letter of guarantee that I was forced to write, I was approved to go. This senior official cautioned me, “Do not think that you’ll be free once you get to the U.S. If you say or do something that you shouldn’t, you won’t be able to return home. You still have family here in China, and won’t you want to come back to visit them?  You need to continue to be careful in what you say and do.” That a regime could go so far as to use withholding a citizen's constitutionally-conferred right to enter and leave the country as a threat only shows its hypocrisy and impotence.

And that is how, on January 11, my family boarded a plane to the U.S. under the tight monitoring of state security officers.

I am now in the United States, a free country. Here, I solemnly state that [what I said in] the interrogations and the letter of guarantee that I wrote were produced under torture and coercion, and against my will, and they are completely null and void.

I further state that I shall make public to the international community all that I have endured over this past year and that I shall file a complaint with the United Nations Human Rights Council and other international agencies. I shall continue to criticize the Communist Party dictatorship in my writings. This increasingly fascist, barbaric, and brutal regime is the greatest threat to the free world and the greatest threat to all freedom-loving people. I vow to continue to oppose the tyranny of the Communist Party of China.

After arriving in the U.S., my main writing plans for the near future are: publish the Chinese edition of Liu Xiaobo’s biography two months from now and various foreign language editions afterwards. I began writing the biography in early 2009, and it is the only biography of Liu Xiaobo authorized by Liu Xia. I hope, through this biography, to comprehensively introduce Liu Xiaobo’s life, philosophy, and creativity, and give readers around the world, including those inside China, a deeper understanding of the Nobel Peace Prize laureate. I will use this book as an opportunity to call on people on every possible occasion to continue to pay close attention to Liu Xiaobo’s and Liu Xia's fates so that they can be freed as soon as possible.

I also plan to publish a new book, Hu Jintao: Cold-Blooded Tyrant (冷血暴君胡锦涛), within the next six months. This will be the companion book to China’s Best Actor: Wen Jiabao and will be a eulogy for Hu Jintao as he exits the stage of history. Hu Jintao will be a comprehensive analysis of Hu’s governance and provide analysis and commentary on the major features of the Hu era, including “harmonious society,” “the rise of a great nation,” “China model,” and “stability maintenance.” It will enable readers in China and beyond as well as the international community to see the truth behind China’s economic growth—reckless autocracy, rampant corruption, deterioration of human rights, damage to the environment, moral decline—and that Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao are sinners of history whose sins cannot be forgiven.

After I left China, many friends there showed sympathy for and understanding of my decision and offered me encouragement and hope. I am deeply touched and encouraged by this. In the free world, I can access even more information, so my writing and thinking not only will not regress, rather, they will advance and improve. I believe that I will continue to write good works that will not betray the expectations of my friends.

On the other hand, I will put forth my voice on the broader international platform on behalf of the struggle for democracy and freedom in China. In particular, I shall urge the international community to pay more attention to the situation of those deprived of their liberty, e.g., Liu Xiaobo, Liu Xia, Chen Guangcheng, Gao Zhisheng, Hu Jia, and Fan Yafeng, as well as those relatively unknown, such as Liu Xianbin, Chen Wei, Chen Xi, and Yang Tianshui. I have already attained my hard-won freedom and security; to speak out for my compatriots who have neither freedom nor security is a responsibility and a mission that I cannot shirk. Be bound with those who are bound, and mourn with those who mourn—this too is God’s teaching to Christians.

I am a true patriot. There is a line in Macbeth that goes, “I think our country sinks beneath the yoke; / It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash / Is added to her wounds.” I worry and suffer about this. I will make exposing and criticizing the tyrannical rule of the CPC my life’s cause. For each day that this government that has robbed and plundered China’s riches and enslaved and crippled the Chinese people does not fall, I will not stop exposing and criticizing it. I further believe that in the near future I will return to a China that has achieved democracy and freedom. Then, our lives will be like those described in the Bible, “[Behold,] how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!” And those kleptocrats and traitors who wrought tyranny, from Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao to every wicked state security officer, will be put on trial to await an even more shameful end than that of Saddam Hussein, Hosni Mubarak, and Muammar al-Gaddafi. Let us work together so that that day may come as soon as possible.

揭露中共暴政，奔向自由世界

——我的去国声明

余杰

2012年1月11日下午，我们一家三口登上了从北京赴美国的飞机。五名国保人员从家门口将我们一直押送到登机口，并要求与我合影照像，之后扬长而去。
作出离开中国的选择，对我来说是艰难的，也是漫长的。

我自1998年在北大读书期间出版第一本书《火与冰》，便受到中宣部和安全部门的严密监视。2000年从北大硕士毕业，在当局的干预下，一毕业即 失业，从此成为靠写作维持生活的"不自由撰稿人"。在江泽民时代，我的部分作品还能够在国内发表和出版，在国内还有一定的言论空间。2004年，胡温上台 之后，我遭到全面的封杀，从此不能在国内任何媒体上发表一个字，连其他人文章中提到我的名字都会被删去。我的人虽然在国内，却成了一名"内心的流亡者"和 一个在公共空间中"不存在的人"。

尽管如此，我仍然没有停止写作。作为一名独立知识分子，我持续地批判中共的专制体制，并与刘晓波成为亲密朋友，并肩作战。我在海外出版了十五本左 右的著作，发表了上千篇的文章。由此，我多次遭到传唤、软禁、恐吓等各种骚扰，处境日渐困难。那几年，我访问美国和欧洲国家的时侯，有朋友劝我留下来，我 的回答是："只要没有生命危险，我就不会离开中国。"作为一名作家，言论自由和出版自由是最基本的；作为一名基督徒，宗教信仰自由是必不可少的；而作为一 名普通人，免于恐惧的自由是不可或缺的。

但是，从2010年10月8日我最好的朋友刘晓波获得诺贝尔和平奖的消息传出之后，我便失去了这几项最基本的自由，非法软禁、酷刑、监视、跟踪 和"被旅游"成为日常生活的一部分。历尽一年多的非人待遇和痛苦挣扎后，我不得不选择离开中国，与法西斯化的、野蛮的、残暴的中国共产党政府彻底决裂。

这一年多以来我个人的遭遇是这样的：2010年10月8日，刘晓波获奖的消息被宣布的当天，我正在美国访问，白天在南加州大学发表一场演讲，晚间听到了刘 晓波获奖的消息。当时，我感到万分激动和鼓舞，立刻准备回国。有朋友告诫我说，中国当局的反应一定是恼羞成怒，并导致国内的人权状况急剧恶化，他们劝我暂 时先留在美国。但是，十年以来，刘晓波是我最亲密的兄长和朋友，刘晓波担任独立中文笔会会长期间，我是副会长，这些年他参与的几乎所有的人权活动，我都是 亲历者。从2008年12月刘晓波被捕之后，我就获得刘晓波的妻子刘霞的授权，开始着手写作刘晓波的传记。因此，我迫切的希望回到国内，继续访谈刘晓波的 亲友，以便尽快完成这本重要的著作。

获奖消息颁布五天之后，10月13日，我就从美国回到了中国。一下飞机，立即被北京的国保警察非法软禁在家中。四名便衣警察24小时守候在我家门口，甚至直接用一张桌子抵住我家的大门，并在我家前后安装了六台摄像头和红外线探测器，天罗地网，如临大敌。
刚开始几天，我妻子还可以出门上班，刘霞托他弟弟与我的妻子联系，帮刘晓波购买衣服和食品。不幸的是，有一天，警察从刘霞弟弟身上搜出刘霞写给我妻子的纸条。由此，我妻子的手机也突然被停机，同样被日夜软禁在家，不允许去上班。

有一天，我妻子生病了，发高烧至四十度，几近昏厥，警察仍然不允许她去医院。朝阳区公安分局的一个名叫郝琪的国保穷凶极恶地扬言说："你就是病死在家中， 我也不让你出门，你死了上面自然有人来负责！"万分焦急之际，我上网求救，有一位好心的朋友从推特上看到我的求救信息后，打电话叫来120救护车。但是警 察仍然把医生阻拦在门外，幸运的是，经过医生的力争，最终被同意进门来为我妻子量了体温。医生说高烧情形很危险，必须到医院输液救治。几经交涉，最后到了 凌晨，妻子终于被救护车送到医院，6名警察贴身跟随，而我被禁止陪同妻子去医院。

接下来的情况越来越糟糕。从11月初开始，我家的电话、网络和手机等全部被切断，任何人都不能与我们接触，我和妻子在家中处于与世隔绝的状态。我们需要的 日常生活用品，只能写在纸条上，由守候在门口的国保警察代为购买，然后再付钱给他们。我们不知道外面发生了什么，不能与父母和孩子联系，这样的日子一天天 持续着，不知道何时是个尽头，感觉比坐牢还要艰难，坐牢还有个具体的刑期，有亲人探视的权利，每天还有放风的时间，但我们根本就是陷入无尽的黑洞，度日如 年。这样差不多持续了两个月时间。

12月9日，诺贝尔和平奖颁奖典礼前一天，我一生中最黑暗的时刻降临了。下午一点多，此前常与我接触的朝阳区的一个名叫王春辉的国保，在我所在地豆各庄派 出所的马副所长的陪同下，敲开我家的家门说："我们领导要找你谈话。"我完全没有怀疑这是一个陷阱，身上还穿着一套家居服，只是在外面罩了一件大衣，便随 同他们出门了。

一走到楼下，我就发现情况不对。有十多名便衣和几辆汽车在楼下守候，瞬间两个彪形大汉冲到我面前，一巴掌打掉我的眼镜，用一个黑头套将我的头套住，并把我拖上一辆轿车的后排。汽车立即开动，两名便衣左右两边扭着我的双手，不准我动弹一下。

大约过了一个多小时以后，车开到了一个秘密地点。一名国保把我的头夹在他的腋下，将我拖进一个房间。他们命令我端坐在椅子上面一动不能动，一动便对我拳打脚踢。整个过程中我一直被戴着黑头套，呼吸十分困难。

到了大约晚上十点左右，他们解开我的黑头套，我刚要松一口气，立即又冲进来几个便衣，不由分说便对我进行劈头盖脸地殴打。他们脱光我的衣服，将我赤身裸体 地推倒在地上，疯狂地踢打。在殴打的过程中，他们还拿出照相机拍照，并得意洋洋地说，要将把我的裸体照片发在网络上。

他们把我按住跪在地上，先后打了我一百多个耳光，甚至还强迫我打自己的耳光，我必须让他们听到响亮的声音，他们才满意，然后发狂地大笑。他们还用脚踢我的 胸口，把我踢倒在地上后再踩在我的身体上。我胸口的一根肋骨像断了一样，后来疼痛了长达一个月的时间，连弯腰起床都感觉十分困难。

他们还强迫我摊开双手，然后将我的手指一根一根地往反方向掰。他们说："你的两只手写了许多攻击共产党的文章，要把你的手指一根一根地折断。"他们还用用灼烧的烟头贴近我的脸，我的皮肤感受到了滚烫的疼痛，他们还侮辱性地将嘴里的烟喷到我的脸上。

他们不断地用粗话辱骂我，骂我是卖国贼，是汉奸，是垃圾。同时，他们还辱骂我的家人和朋友。接着，他们强迫我跟着他们的说法来骂自己。如果我不骂自己，他们就加倍对我拳打脚踢。

带头的那个国保警察宣布："你有三个主要的罪状：第一，这十年来刘晓波做的所有反动的事情，你都积极参加，你们都是帝国主义颠覆中国的工具；第二，你在香 港出版《中国影帝温家宝》一书，恶毒攻击党和国家领导人，我们好言劝告你不听，就只能用暴力来对付你；第三，你还在写作刘晓波的传记，如果你要出版这本 书，我们肯定把你送进监狱。"

他还说："如果上面下了命令，我们半个小时就可以在外面挖个坑把你活埋了，全世界都没有人知道。就在此时此刻，外国人在给刘晓波颁奖，羞辱我们的 党和政府，我们打死你来报复他们。"他接着说："根据国保掌握的情况，国内反对共产党的、有影响力的知识分子，总共也不会超过两百个人，一旦中央觉得统治 出现危机，一夜之间就可以将这两百人全部抓捕，一起活埋。"

整个殴打辱骂的过程不知道持续了几个小时，后来我昏迷了过去，而且全身不断抽搐。他们开车将我送到医院抢救。那时，我已经没有了大部分知觉，只在 迷迷糊糊中听到，这是北京郊区昌平的一个医院。医生说，这个人伤势严重，我们这里没有办法抢救，你们得送到城里的大医院去试试看。警察说："那么，你们派 个救护车，我们付钱。"医生说："我们医院的救护车没有那些特殊设备，你们要立即从市内调有急救设备的车来，否则就没救了。"

不久，救护车从市内赶来，将我运送到市内的一家"高干医院"----北京医院。他们给我报了一个叫李力的假名字，对医院说："这个人是癫痫病发作。"

经过几个小时的抢救，我终于从死亡线上挣扎过来。到了第二天早晨，医生来查房，询问我的情况，我刚刚挣扎着说了一句"他们打我"，在旁边的一个警察头子立 即将医生叫到一边。而另一名警察贴近我的耳边凶狠的说："如果你再乱说话，我们把你身上的管子全都拔掉，你就去死吧。"

10日下午，他们看我已经脱离生命危险了，便将我从医院带出去，带到旁边的一个酒店，休息了一下午。傍晚，他们告诉我，他们的领导要来看我，就把 我带到另外一个套房中。来见我的官员自称姓于，是北京市公安局副局长和国保总队的总队长。他虚伪地说："昨天的事情是个误会，是下面的人做得不对，你不要 对外说出去。"之后的几天，他们在郊外安排了一个地方让我去住，每天审讯我这些年从事的活动和写的文章。他们强迫我写下一份承诺书.

直到2010年12月13日，我被释放回家。此后两周，我和妻子可以出门，但必须告知在楼下24小时监控的国保警察，要去哪里，什么时候回家。十 二月底，我返回四川老家，他们把我送到机场。此后，我在老家居住了四个月。在这些时间里，差不多每隔半个月时间，国保警察便前来盘问我的生活情况。他们是 一个由一名自称姓姜的处长、自称姓张的科长和其他几名年轻下属组成专门负责我的"团队"。

此后一年，一遇到所谓的敏感时刻，比如节日、纪念日、开会日、外事访问日等，我就被非法监禁在家，或者被要求到外地去旅游。这样几乎三天两头，有 差不多一半的时间我都失去或部分失去自由。我也被迫几乎停止了在海外发表文章，因为每有文章发表，国保警察立即上门来威胁。我们一个三口之家，被迫生活在 三个不同地方：我被监控在外地，妻子在北京工作，孩子在四川老家由爷爷奶奶照顾。很快，由于国保警察三次去妻子工作的公司施加压力，她的工作也失去了，这 种情形不是第一次发生。在大部分时间里，我也不能到教会参加聚会和查经，不能过一个基督徒正常的信仰生活。这对我来说，是极为痛苦的事情。

在这样艰难到连基本的生活都不能为继的时侯，在一家人都不能生活在一起的时侯，在我的写作自由全部丧失的时候，在基本的生命安全也没有保障的时候，在坚持在国内做一个说真话的知识分子十四年之后，我被迫作出出国的决定。

但是，当2011年夏天我向国保方面提出出国的要求时，他们却告知上级不准我和妻子出境。经过反复的谈判，他们答应圣诞之后可以考虑我出国的事 情。圣诞之后，我购买了赴美的机票，并告知国保警察，无论如何我也要走，如果我在机场被扣留，我绝对要奋力反抗并说出一切真相。他们回答说，他们会尽量做 工作，让上级解除不准我和妻子出境的禁令。

1月9日，我的赴美机票时间的前两天，北京国保总队的姜姓处长告知，新任的北京市公安局刘副局长（兼北京市国保总队总队长）将约见我。1月10 日，他们将我接到一个酒店的套房内，与我会见的官员自称姓刘，是此前与我见过的于姓官员的继任者。他要求我写一份保证书。然后再考虑我的要求。他说："中 国日渐强大，美国日渐衰落，你何必去美国呢？"他敢如此质疑送女儿去哈佛读书的习近平副主席吗？

在被迫写下这样的保证书后，我被批准放行。这名高级官员警告说："不要以为到美国就自由了，如果你说了不该说的话，做了不该做的事，你就不可能回 国。你的家人还在国内，你难道不想回来探望他们吗？你要继续谨言慎行。"一个政权居然用宪法赋予公民的出入境自由来要挟其公民，可见它的虚伪和虚弱。

就这样，1月11日，我们全家在国保警察的严密监控下登上了到美国的飞机。

如今，我来到美国这个自由的国家。在此，我郑重宣布：在酷刑和逼迫情形下所作的笔录和保证书，是违背自己真实意愿的，全部作废。

我更宣布：我向国际社会公布自己这一年多以来我所遭遇的一切，并向联合国人权理事会等机构提出控诉。我将继续从事批判共产党专制制度的写作。这个日渐法西斯化，越来越野蛮和残暴的政权，是自由世界的最大威胁，是一切热爱自由的人的最大威胁。我将矢志不渝地反对中共的暴政。

赴美之后，我近期内的主要写作计划是：计划两个月以后出版《刘晓波传》的中文版，以后陆续出版此书的各种外文版本。这本传记在二零零九年初便开始 写作，也是由刘霞授权的惟一的一本刘晓波的传记。我期望通过这本传记全面地介绍刘晓波的生平、思想与创作，让包括中国人在内的全球读者更加深入地认识这位 诺贝尔和平奖得主。以此为契机，我将在一切可能的场合呼吁人们持续关注刘晓波和刘霞的命运，以便让他们早日获得自由。

我还将计划在半年内出版新书《冷血暴君胡锦涛》，这本书将成为《中国影帝温家宝》的姊妹篇，将是致即将退出历史舞台的胡锦涛的一份"悼词"。书中 将全面分析胡锦涛的执政方式，对"和谐社会"、"大国崛起"、"中国模式"、"维稳"等胡锦涛时代的重要特征进行分析和评述，让国内外的读者以及国际社会 认识到中国经济增长背后专制肆虐、腐败盛行、人权恶化、环境破坏、道德滑坡的诸多真相，而胡锦涛和温家宝是罪不可赦的历史罪人。

我离开中国之后，国内很多朋友对我的选择表示同情和理解，也对我提出一些鼓励和期望。对此，我深受感动与鼓舞。我在自由世界中可以接触到更多的资讯，由此我的写作和思考不仅不会退步，反倒会有进展与提升。我相信，我会不断写出不负朋友们期待的好作品。

另一方面，我也将在更加广阔的国际社会的平台上，为中国的民主与自由奋力发出自己的声音。特别是呼吁国际社会更多关注仍然被剥夺自由的人士的处 境，如刘晓波、刘霞、陈光诚、高智晟、胡佳、范亚峰以及相对不为人所知的刘贤斌，陈卫、陈西、杨天水等人。我已经获得了来之不易的自由与安全，为那些仍然 处在不自由、不安全的境况里的同胞仗义执言，是我不可推卸的责任和使命。与捆绑者同捆绑，与哀哭者同哀哭，也是上帝对基督徒的教导。

我是一名真正的爱国者。莎士比亚在《麦克白》中有这样一句台词："我想我们的国家正在重轭之下沉沦，在哭泣，在流血。每一天，她的旧痕之上都在增 添着新伤。"我为此而忧伤痛苦，我将把揭露和批判共产党的暴政作为我一生的事业，这个窃取与掠夺中国财富，奴役与残害中国人民的政府一天不垮台，我对它的 揭露和批判就一天不会停止。我更相信，在不久的将来，我会回到实现民主自由的中国，那时，我们的生活将如同圣经所说"弟兄姊妹和睦同居，是何等的美，何等 的善"。而那些施行暴政的窃国贼者和卖国贼，从胡锦涛、温家宝到每一个作恶的国保警察，都将被送上审判席，等待他们的将是比萨达姆、穆巴拉克、卡扎菲们更 加可耻的下场。让我们为那一天的早日到来而共同努力。