林培瑞: 中共會不會徹底毀掉中國文明？

美國著名的漢學家，中國人民的真正老朋友林培瑞，在美國之音的評論《中共會不會徹底毀掉中國文明？》中拋出一個沉甸甸的問題：中共會不會徹底毀掉中國文明？回望歷史，秦始皇焚書坑儒，隋煬帝窮兵黷武，成吉思汗鐵蹄踐踏，朱元璋大興文字獄，這些古代暴君雖手段酷烈，卻未能斬斷華夏文明的根脈。然而，今日的中共不同，它握有現代科技的利器——攝像頭遍布街頭巷尾，大數據追蹤每個人的足跡，人工智能分析每一句私語。這種前所未有的監控能力，讓社會無處遁形，遠超古代帝王所能想象。這股力量，會不會成為中國文明的終結者？

林培瑞（Eugene Perry Link, Jr.；1944年—）,哈佛大學中國歷史博士，漢學家。普林斯頓大學東亞系榮休教授，現任加利福尼亞大學河濱分校校長特聘講座教授。

加拿大記者張彥（Ian Johnson）在《星火：中國的地下歷史學家和他們為未來的鬥爭》中，卻點燃了一盞微光。他記述了一群不屈的靈魂——記者、教授、學生、電影製作者，他們冒着被捕甚至喪命的風險，堅持記錄歷史的真相。比如，林昭在1960年代用鮮血寫下對毛政權的控訴，被秘密處決；遇羅克在文革中發表《出身論》，質疑血統決定命運的荒謬，終被槍決；劉曉波因起草《零八憲章》呼籲民主，獲諾貝爾和平獎卻死於獄中。這些人並非孤例。從1950年代土改中約200萬“地主”被殺，到1959-1962年大饑荒導致3000萬至4500萬人餓死，再到1989年天安門廣場的血腥鎮壓，乃至2017年以來新疆至少100萬維吾爾人被關進“再教育營”，他們用文字和影像揭露暴行，延續着反抗的薪火。

這些抗爭者為何前仆後繼？林培瑞認為，這不僅是因為少數人的英勇無畏，更因暴政從未停歇。數據顯示，自1949年中共建政以來，政治運動接連不斷：1957年反右運動整肅55萬人，1966-1976年文革波及上億人，2000年代維權律師如高智晟被失蹤，2022年白紙抗議後無數年輕人被拘捕。只要壓迫存在，反抗就不會熄滅。他們的精神源泉，深植於中國文化的“義”。屈原在《離騷》中以身殉國，抒發對正義的追尋；蘇軾在《赤壁賦》中面對流放仍樂觀豁達，彰顯人格力量。這些千古流傳的篇章，滋養着今天的地下歷史學家。他們記錄真相，不僅是對過去的忠誠，更是對未來的承諾。張彥寫道：“他們希望後人知道，在2020年代，當一切黑暗到極點時，中國人沒有屈服。”這仿佛一封穿越時空的信，寄給未知的明天。

中共為何對這些異見者如此恐懼？一個經濟總量達17萬億美元、軍隊200萬人的政權，竟被幾支筆嚇得寢食難安，原因藏在“合法性”的裂縫中。中共自稱繼承“天命”，如古代帝王般將歷史書寫為必然的光榮篇章，同時又承襲列寧主義，將“黨”奉為永無瑕疵的聖物。毛澤東或可“七三開”，但黨必須100%正確。若真相暴露——如土改實為殺5%人口以立威，大饑荒非天災而是人禍——其統治根基便岌岌可危。捷克作家哈維爾在《無權者的權力》中寫道，索爾仁尼琴一句真話，就讓蘇聯的鐵幕露出破綻。同樣，中共的宣傳外殼看似堅硬，實則不堪一擊，因其價值觀——“三反五反”“四個現代化”“習核心”等口號——與百姓的日常需求，如醫療、教育、公正，始終脫節。

中國文明會毀於中共之手嗎？或許答案不在宏大的預言中，而在這些具體的抗爭里。2022年11月，上海烏魯木齊路舉起的白紙，點燃全國抗議；2023年，匿名者在網絡散布被禁的《四通橋宣言》。這些微小卻頑強的火花，證明文明的韌性未滅。中共或許能壓倒一時，但歷史的真相，如同地下暗流，總會找到出路。

來源：https://www.voachinese.com/a/perry-link-commentary-20250311/8006574.html

Perry Link, in his commentary for Voice of America, poses a haunting question: Will the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) ultimately destroy Chinese civilization? History offers a lens—tyrants like Qin Shi Huang burned books and buried scholars, Sui Yangdi waged relentless wars, Genghis Khan trampled empires with his cavalry, and Zhu Yuanzhang unleashed literary purges. Yet, none severed the lifeline of Chinese culture. Today’s CCP, however, wields a modern arsenal: cameras on every corner, big data tracking every step, AI dissecting every whisper. This omnipresent surveillance, unimaginable to ancient despots, blankets society in a way that prompts the question—could it fracture China’s millennia-old civilization?

Canadian journalist Ian Johnson, in his book Sparks: China’s Underground Historians and Their Battle for the Future, offers a flicker of hope. He chronicles the defiant spirits—reporters, professors, students, filmmakers—who risk imprisonment or death to document the truth. Take Lin Zhao, who in the 1960s wrote indictments of Mao’s regime in her own blood, only to be secretly executed; Yu Luoke, who penned On Class Origins during the Cultural Revolution, challenging the absurdity of fate-by-birth, and was shot; Liu Xiaobo, drafter of Charter 08, who won the Nobel Peace Prize but died in custody. These are not isolated cases. From the 1950s land reform that killed some 2 million “landlords,” to the Great Famine of 1959-1962 that starved 30 to 45 million, to the 1989 Tiananmen massacre, and the detention of at least 1 million Uyghurs in “re-education camps” since 2017, these underground historians have used words and images to expose atrocities, keeping the flame of resistance alive.

Why do these fighters persist, generation after generation? Perry Link suggests it’s not just the courage of a few, but the ceaseless brutality of tyranny that fuels them. The numbers speak: since 1949, political campaigns have been relentless—550,000 purged in the 1957 Anti-Rightist Movement, over 100 million affected by the 1966-1976 Cultural Revolution, human rights lawyers like Gao Zhisheng “disappeared” in the 2000s, and countless youths detained after the 2022 White Paper protests. As long as oppression endures, rebellion will rise. Their moral bedrock lies in China’s ancient concept of “righteousness” (yi). Qu Yuan’s Li Sao mourns his exile with a cry for justice; Su Shi’s Red Cliff Ode radiates resilience amid banishment. These timeless works nourish today’s truth-tellers. They record not just for fidelity to the past, but as a pact with the future. Johnson writes, “They want future Chinese to know that in the 2020s, when darkness reached its peak, people did not surrender.” It’s a letter sealed in a time capsule, addressed to posterity.

So why does the CCP tremble before these dissenters? A regime with a $17 trillion economy and a 2-million-strong army, rattled by a handful of pens—it seems absurd, yet it’s profound. The CCP’s “legitimacy” teeters on a fragile edge. It claims a mandate from heaven, like ancient emperors, scripting history as an inevitable triumph, while borrowing Leninism’s dogma of an infallible Party. Mao might be judged “70% right, 30% wrong,” but the Party must be 100% pure. If the truth spills out—that land reform was a calculated slaughter of 5% of the population to cement power, or that the Great Famine was no natural disaster but a man-made calamity—the foundation crumbles. Czech writer Václav Havel, in The Power of the Powerless, observed how Solzhenitsyn’s truths exposed the Soviet facade. Likewise, the CCP’s propaganda shell—slogans like “Three Antis, Five Antis,” “Four Modernizations,” “Xi as the Core”—feels invincible until a single voice pierces it, revealing its disconnect from the people’s daily concerns: healthcare, education, fairness.

Will Chinese civilization perish under the CCP? The answer may not lie in grand prophecies, but in these stubborn sparks. In November 2022, blank sheets of paper raised on Shanghai’s Urumqi Road ignited nationwide protests; in 2023, anonymous voices online spread the banned Sitong Bridge Manifesto. These small, tenacious acts prove the civilization’s resilience endures. The CCP may crush the moment, but history’s truth, like an underground stream, will always find its way.