刘晓波的人生与理想：余杰在国会听证会的证词

余杰
　

丁子霖夫妇、刘晓波夫妇、余杰夫妇与蒋彦永医生

　　一九七七年，二十二岁的、当过多年知青的刘晓波考入大学，是其成为一名独立知识分子的起点。此后的三十多年，刘晓波的成长历程和公共活动，大致可以分为四个阶段。

　　第一个阶段，从一九七七年至一九八九年，是刘晓波的学习时期和成名时期。

　　八十年代，中国的思想文化相对活跃，刘晓波得益于那个时代的精神氛围，自己也成为其中的推波助澜者。他从文学批评和美学领域，进入到对中国传统文化、中国知识分子及政治制度的批判。他的著述洛阳纸贵，他的演讲风靡校园。

　　一九八九年春，学运潮起，刘晓波毅然返回国内，全身心地投入其中，由“黑马”而为“黑手”，由“书斋中人”而为“行动中人”，由“青年导师”而为“国家公敌”。枪声响起的那一刻，他的青年时代亦告终结。

　　第二个阶段，从一九八九年至一九九九年，是刘晓波的入狱时期、受难时期。

　　此十年是中国社会政治停滞、经济腾飞的十年，是知识分子集体溃败、基本价值悬置的十年。在邓小平提出的“奔小康”的口号之下，中国民众不得不接受自由被剥夺、人权被侵犯的现实，一门心思赚钱去。在知识界内部，民族主义、民粹主义、后现代主义、传统文化热和新左派等思潮，在官方默许和鼓励下，相继兴起。与之对应的是，自由主义日渐边缘化。

　　这十年间，刘晓波因为积极介入人权活动，先后三度、有近六年时间失去自由。即便在狱外，他也常年遭到国保警察的严密监控、跟踪，甚至被非法软禁，生存状况极为恶劣。但是，刘晓波没有放弃、没有气馁、没有因为被大众遗忘而焦虑不安，而是继续阅读文献、观察社会、联络同道，寻求新的发力点。

　　在此期间，刘晓波多次起草、组织和发表呼吁当局实行民主、保障人权和为“六四”平反等主题的公开信。不过，他只能在一个很小的异议人士的圈子内活动，基本上是“孤独的先行者”的角色。

　　第三个阶段，从一九九九年至二零零八年，是刘晓波的政论写作时期、公共知识分子时期和人权活动家时期。

　　这一期间，中国的经济快速发展，政治体制改革严重滞后，腐败问题变本加厉，社会矛盾日渐尖锐。在江泽民和胡锦涛的任期内，中共对外宣示“大国崛起”，输出“中国模式”；对内宣扬“和谐社会”，实则暴力“维稳”，秘密警察日渐猖獗。另一方面，公民社会逐渐萌芽和壮大，NGO组织如雨后春笋般出现，互联网的普及带来前所未有的信息自由。而知识界也出现了更大的分化。

　　这一时期，刘晓波仍然处于警方的严密监控之下。不过，除了在每年特定的“敏感时期”遭到短期软禁和传唤之外，并没有再度入狱，他的生活相对比较稳定。他保持了敏锐的问题意识和批判热情，既在书斋中勤奋写作，也走出书斋参与人权活动。

　　其中，在二零零三年至二零零七年间，刘晓波连任两届独立中文笔会会长，使笔会的重心由海外转移到国内。在一帮同仁的配合与支持之下，将笔会打造成中国大陆第一个突破当局结社限制、捍卫言论自由、推动中文文学的独立社团。二零零八年，刘晓波卸任笔会会长，又投入《零八宪章》的修订和组织工作，直至当年十二月八日被捕。领导独立中文笔会和《零八宪章》运动，凸显出他的一个新身份：民间社会的组织者和协调者。

　　第四个阶段，从二零零九年至今。

　　从二零零八年十二月八日深夜警察破门而入那一刻起，刘晓波即失去自由。二零零九年十二月，刘晓波被判处十一年重刑。二零一零年十月，刘晓波获得诺贝尔和平奖。

　　尽管囚禁了刘晓波的身体，但中共当局已经无法让刘晓波这个名字从公共生活中彻底消失。刘晓波的存在就如同一面照妖镜，照出了中共独裁政权的本质。

　　而诺奖的荣誉，也将刘晓波推到一个新的位置。尽管刘晓波的价值并不单单由诺奖来定义，但诺奖让刘晓波在未来中国的社会转型中有了更强大的着力点。

　　中共的独裁统治已形成严重的社会危机，不管中共当局是否承认，中国的民主转型不可避免。作为从天安门事件以来持续二十多年为中国人权事业奋斗的知识分子，作为非暴力的价值和“我没有敌人”的精神的倡导者，作为惟一一名身处中国本土的诺贝尔和平奖得主，刘晓波必将在这一变革中发挥关键作用。

　　中国的民主化，不仅将使得十三亿中国人告别共产党暴政、基本人权受到法治保障，而且将带动新一轮的全球民主化浪潮，北韩、伊朗、古巴等独裁国家的变化必将加速。在此意义上，刘晓波对人类历史的推动，将不亚于南非的曼德拉、捷克的哈维尔、韩国的金大中和缅甸的昂山素姬等人。他应当像曼德拉、哈维尔、金大中和昂山素姬那样获得其同胞和全世界的支持。

On October 9th, 2010, the day after Liu Xiaobo was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, the Chinese Communist Party arranged a meeting between him and his wife Liu Xia.

Liu told his wife that he had already learned of his award from prison officials. Then, facing her with tears in his eyes, he said, “this prize is for the lost souls of June Fourth.”

Liu Xiaobo’s confinement made him only the second recipient, in more than a century of the prize’s history, to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize while in prison. As Liu was unable to attend the ceremony held in Oslo, an empty chair was placed onstage to symbolize his absence: as you might expect, empty chairs are a rare sight at such ceremonies.

Vaclav Havel, a fellow intellectual, dissident, and political prisoner who strongly supported Liu’s nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize, also shares with Liu a common casual fashion sense. Even after becoming President of the Czech Republic, Havel never abandoned his aversion to formal dress. He once refused a suit given to him by his friend Karel Schwarzenberger, a descendant of Austrian royalty, exclaiming “I can’t wear this! It would make me look like a clown.” Havel continued to wear a simple pullover and jeans throughout his presidency, riding his scooter through the winding halls of Prague Castle.

Like Havel, Liu Xiaobo has always had a casual and simple style. You are not likely to see him in a suit and tie. Once when a friend invited him to dinner at an exclusive club, the host stopped Liu at the doorway and required him to change out of his jeans: he was less than happy with this formality. When Liu was a rising star in the academic world in the 1980s, he would often lecture at Beijing Normal University in worn old jeans and sandals. One classmate recalls that Liu, who always did things his own way even then, would often “wear a t-shirt, shorts, and sandals, with a tattered book　bag on his back.” And whoever chose to criticize his sense of style would inevitably receive the self-satisfied response that “this entire outfit cost less than ten yuan!”

If one day Liu Xiaobo regains his freedom, we can be certain that China will have already started on the path to democratization. Would he be invited to Oslo City Hall, to make up for the prize ceremony that he missed? Would he wear a neatly pressed black tuxedo to the ceremony？I can’t help but wonder how he would look, dressed so immaculately from head to toe.

Every person’s life is filled with countless “ifs.” Liu Xiaobo’s is no exception.

If Liu Xiaobo’s father had not been a literature professor, if Liu had not been sent down to the countryside as an “educated youth,” or if he had not been accepted into the Chinese Department at Jilin University and joined the Innocent Hearts Poetry Group, amidst the unrivaled reign of the technical sciences in that era, would he have become just another bumbling engineer?

If Liu Xiaobo had not been accepted into the Chinese Department at Beijing Normal University and remained as an instructor after graduation, if he had not published his declaration on the crisis of contemporary Chinese literature, and if he had not challenged Li Zehou, one of the more influential thinkers of that period, would he have become just another inconspicuous and obscure professor of aesthetics?

If Liu Xiaobo, amidst the tumult of 1989, had only completed his term as a visiting scholar abroad rather than returning to Beijing like a moth to a flame, if he had only stood on the sidelines of the student movement rather than becoming one of the leaders of the hunger strike that marked its peak, or if he had just not stood ground with fellow protestors on Tiananmen Square until the very last moment, would he have avoided the tragedy of prison?

If, as more and more Chinese dove into the sea of entrepreneurship in the 1990s, Liu Xiaobo had decided to change course and just focus on making some money, if he had returned to the ivory tower to refocus his energies on textual research, or if he had only dedicated some of his talent to publishing bestsellers, would he have become just another showy nouveau riche intellectual-turned-businessman?

If, in this new century, Liu Xiaobo had not been elected to the presidency of the Independent Chinese PEN Center and dedicated himself to the struggle for freedom of expression, if he had not published millions of characters worth of political commentary in the overseas media and on overseas websites, and if he had not participated in drafting and organizing Charter ’08, would he have faced a fourth prison sentence? And would he have received the Nobel Peace Prize?

Each of these “ifs” presents a crossroads in life. But if, over the past thirty years, China did not have Liu Xiaobo, or if Liu’s sense of duty… or shall we say the combination of his sense of duty, ambition, and other aspects of his complex personality… were not quite as strong as they have been, what would our world be like today?

Liu Xiaobo’s existence, and Liu Xiaobo’s suffering, are a reminder to us all: we are not alone in this world, and cannot think only of ourselves. We have to remained engaged with and reflective upon the world around us, and bear our shared responsibility.

In 1977, after years of work in the countryside as an “educated youth,” Liu Xiaobo was admitted into college, beginning his journey to becoming an independent intellectual at the age of twenty-two. Liu’s growth and activism over the three decades that followed can be divided into four main passages.

The first passage, from 1977 to 1989, was a period in which Liu pursued his studies, began his career, and made a name for himself in literary circles.

The late 1970s and 1980s were a rare moment of vitality and hope in modern China. Despite the occasional reemergence of political campaigns like the Anti-Spiritual Pollution Drive and the Campaign against Bourgeois Liberalization, the control and restraint of leaders like Hu Yaobang and Zhao Ziyang ensured that such temporary flashbacks to the Maoist era did not devastate the recently revitalized cultural and intellectual fields. The liberation of thought that characterized the 1980s continued through the spring of 1989, when it was suddenly and cruelly extinguished.

Liu Xiaobo benefited greatly from the open intellectual atmosphere of this period, while also becoming a central contributor to its continual expansion. Liu began his studies from literary criticism and aesthetics, gradually expanding into a far-reaching critique of Chinese traditional culture, Chinese intellectuals, and the prevailing political system. His books sold faster than they could be printed, and his speeches were all the talk of college campuses.

In the spring of 1989, while Liu Xiaobo was a visiting scholar in the United States, student protests began in Beijing. Liu was determined to return, and soon dedicated himself wholeheartedly to this movement. Liu’s decision transformed him from the “dark horse” of literary circles to the “black hand” behind the student movement, from a detached intellectual to a man of action, and from a young scholar to an enemy of the state. The echo of gunfire reverberating through the streets of Beijing officially marked the end of Liu Xiaobo’s youth.

The second passage, from 1989 to 1999, was a period in which Liu was imprisoned, persecuted, and remained committed and active while increasingly isolated

This was a decade of unrelenting social and political stasis, combined with unprecedented economic growth. It was a decade of intellectual suppression and of the widespread abandonment of even the most basic of moral values. Deng Xiaoping’s call to build a “well-off society” left the people of China with no choice but to accept the reality of being robbed of their freedom and denied their fundamental human rights, and to focus their energies upon the sole acceptable goal: making money. Money became the only thing in which people could truly believe. In academic circles, one after another, nationalism, populism, postmodernism, neo-traditionalism, and the “New Left” took intellectual circles by storm with the tacit approval and encouragement of the state. Liberalism, by contrast, was gradually marginalized.

Liu Xiaobo’s human rights activism in this period led to his imprisonment three separate times, totaling nearly six years behind bars in one decade. And even when he was not in prison, Liu was still followed, closely monitored, and even placed under arbitrary house arrest by state security, making his life anything but easy. Yet he refused to give up, to be discouraged, or to even feel a hint of anxiety about his increasingly marginalized position within Chinese society. Instead, he continued on his course, reading the latest commentaries, observing the social and cultural developments around him, collaborating with similarly minded colleagues, and searching for new possibilities.

Throughout this decade, Liu composed and organized signatories to a number of open letters addressing such pressing issues as implementing democracy, protecting human rights, and overturning the official verdict on Tiananmen. Despite these far-reaching efforts, Liu’s influence continued to be limited primarily to a small circle of dissident intellectuals: he had become a lonely trailblazer.

The third passage, from 1999 to 2008, was a period in which Liu wrote extensively on political affairs, and emerged as one of contemporary China’s central public intellectuals and human rights activists.

This was a decade in which China’s economic development continued to accelerate, while political reform continued to lag far behind. Corruption continued to plague society, and social tensions continued to intensify. Throughout the reigns of Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao, the Chinese Communist Party has declared to the outside world the rise of a new great power, and attempted to export the so-called China model. Yet domestically, the Party has proselytized its “harmonious society:” beneath its pleasant sounding veneer, such harmony is in reality nothing but the maintenance of “stability” through unrelenting violence, with the growing ranks of secret police running wild with increasingly free reign.

Yet from another perspective, in this decade civil society gradually took root and slowly expanded, NGOs sprung up one after another, and rapidly expanding Internet use resulted in unprecedented access to free information. However, divisions continued to grow within the intellectual world, as more and more scholars began to willingly abandon their independence and stand wholeheartedly with the government.

Totalitarianism with Chinese characteristics has undergone repeated metamorphoses on its path to modernity. The majority has chosen to bow down and submit to this superficially benevolent yet actually quite coldblooded force; they justify their decision by repeating, “if you can’t beat them, join them.” And as one sector after another gave up and joined in this game, cynicism has come to reign over Chinese society, erasing any remaining momentum for further reform.

In this era, Liu Xiaobo continued to be closely monitored by the state security forces. However, with the exception of brief periods of house arrest and interrogation at particular “sensitive times” each year, he managed to stay out of prison, allowing for a relative sense of security and stability. Combining his extensive knowledge with a growing awareness of the essential role of public intellectuals in social transformation, Liu maintained a sharp awareness of pressing issues and a passion for critical reflection. As one scholar has noted, “he never stopped thinking through a workable program for political transition, as well as possible directions to pursue following such a transition. His thought provides a unique and extremely valuable perspective that links the intellectual world with grassroots society, in search of a soft landing in a ‘post-transition’ era yet to come.”

Between 2003 and 2007, Liu Xiaobo also served two terms as the president of the Independent Chinese PEN Center, finally developing on-the-ground infrastructure for the center’s activities within China. Cooperating with and drawing support from his colleagues, Liu overcame the authorities’ restrictions on independent organizations, making Chinese PEN an unprecedentedly vibrant independent organization dedicated to protecting freedom of expression and promoting the development of Chinese literature. In 2008, Liu Xiaobo retired from his post in Chinese PEN and dedicated himself wholeheartedly to drafting, revising, and organizing signatories to Charter ’08 work which lasted until his arrest on December 8th of that year. The dual leadership roles that Liu assumed in this decade, both in Independent Chinese PEN and in the preparation of Charter ’08, unveiled his new identity as a civil society organizer and coordinator.

The fourth passage in Liu Xiaobo’s life began in 2009, and continues to this day.

From the moment that policemen abruptly stormed into his home in the middle of night on December 8th, 2008, Liu Xiaobo lost his freedom. One year later, in December of 2009, he was sentenced to a total of eleven years in prison. But then, one more year later, Liu Xiaobo was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

Although the Chinese authorities have imprisoned Liu Xiaobo’s body, they cannot imprison his name and his ideas. Liu’s experience unmasks the fundamentally dictatorial nature of the Chinese Communist regime for the world to see. And no matter what disguises the Party may try, so long as Liu remains locked away in prison, there is no way for this regime to hide its despicable nature.

Now, the honor of the Nobel Peace Prize has elevated Liu Xiaobo to a new status. Although Liu’s contributions cannot be measured solely through this prize, this honor nevertheless places him directly at the heart of any future sociopolitical transition in China. Chen Jun, a good friend of Liu, notes, “I strongly believe that Xiaobo has his own expectations and even preparations in this regard. If he can persist, and continue on the path that he has followed over the years, he will become an outstanding figure in history, like Vaclav Havel, leaving a deep and lasting imprint upon China. This imprint could be far more significant than simply realizing democratization in China. And I strongly believe that he is qualified to play such a role.” In the not so distant future, will Liu Xiaobo finally realize the Herculean task of bringing real social transformation to China?

As for what this new passage in Liu’s life might bring, we all have yet to see. But each one of us who cares about China’s future and its fate is eagerly waiting, and imagining what is still to come.


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