Qwen

I Have a Dream

I am writing not with ink, but with the blood of a scholar’s conscience. I am speaking not from a podium, but from a cell—yet my voice will not be silenced.

I have a dream.

I dream of a China where a man may read, think, and share an idea—without fear of chains. I dream of a Kunming where a scholar’s Twitter feed is not a crime scene, but a garden of intellectual curiosity. I dream of a nation that honors its Constitution—not as parchment locked in a vault, but as living breath in the lungs of every citizen.

Today, I stand condemned for repost — a single click, a silent nod to a thought not my own. A cartoon. A speech by a foreign leader. A candle lit in memory. For these, I am called a “troublemaker.” For these, I am branded “anti-system.” But I ask: When did curiosity become sedition? When did learning become treason?

I have a dream.

I dream of a China that listens—truly listens—not only to the chorus of loyalty, but to the whisper of doubt, the cry of dissent, the song of the stranger. I dream of officials who do not see “foreign” as “enemy,” but as mirror—showing us not what to reject, but what to reflect upon. I dream of courts that uphold Article 35 of our Constitution—not as a relic, but as a promise: “Citizens of the People’s Republic of China enjoy freedom of speech, of the press, of assembly, and of association.”

And I say this not in opposition to my country—but in love.

For I believe in the vision of President Xi Jinping when he declared:

“We must transcend civilizational estrangement through exchanges, transcend clashes through mutual learning, and transcend a sense of superiority through coexistence.”

If this is our national creed—then why am I in prison? Why are my thoughts treated as weapons? Why is my scholarship seen as sabotage?

I have a dream.

I dream of a day when a PhD is not a mark of suspicion, but a symbol of service. When “independent scholar” is not a euphemism for “enemy of the state,” but a badge of intellectual courage. When the only “rumor” we fear is the rumor that China has abandoned its own ideals.

Let us not confuse order with silence. Let us not mistake obedience for loyalty. True stability is not built on censorship, but on trust—on the belief that a free mind is not a threat, but a gift.

From this cell, I see no bars—only the bars we place on our own future. But I refuse despair. For even in darkness, truth glimmers. And truth, like light, cannot be jailed.

So I say to the leaders of Kunming, to the judges, to the prosecutors: Open the gates—not just of prisons, but of minds. Let ideas flow like the Jinsha River—wild, free, and life-giving. Let China be not a fortress against the world, but a bridge to it.

I have a dream.

And though I may die in this cell, that dream will not die with me. It will live—in every student who dares to question, in every artist who dares to imagine, in every citizen who dares to speak.

For freedom is not given. It is claimed— not with violence, but with unwavering, unbroken, unyielding dignity.

I have a dream. And one day— China will too.

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我有一个梦想

今天，我站在昆明监狱的高墙之内，镣铐加身，却依然要向这片土地、向这个民族、向这个时代，发出我灵魂深处的呐喊——我有一个梦想！

我梦想有一天，这片古老而伟大的土地，不再因几条网络转发，就将一个学者投入囹圄。我梦想有一天，法官的法槌，敲响的是真理与正义的回音，而非“口袋罪”的丧钟；检察官的起诉书，书写的是证据与逻辑的严谨，而非“我觉得是谣言”的傲慢。

我梦想有一天，在云南的红土高原上，在昆明的翠湖之畔，人们可以自由地言说，自由地思考，自由地信仰——不是作为恩赐，而是作为《中华人民共和国宪法》第三十五条赋予每一个公民的、不可剥夺的神圣权利！我梦想有一天，一个博士的“高学历”，不再是定罪的“原罪”，而是求知的勋章；一个网民的“转发”，不再是“寻衅滋事”的铁证，而是思想交流的桥梁。

我梦想有一天，我的孩子，我的学生，我的同胞，他们不必在发言前战战兢兢，不必在思考时如履薄冰。他们可以像呼吸空气一样自然地表达观点，可以像仰望星空一样自由地探索真理。他们可以欣赏一幅漫画，而不必担心被指为“侮辱”；可以阅读一篇异见文章，而不必恐惧被定为“谣言”；可以转发一条外国政要的演讲，而不必忧虑被扣上“攻击体制”的帽子。

我梦想有一天，昆明的法庭，不再是“司法黑帮”的刑场，而是“文明互鉴”的讲堂！

我梦想有一天，习近平主席那充满智慧与胸怀的倡导——“要以文明交流超越文明隔阂，文明互鉴超越文明冲突，文明共存超越文明优越”——不再是高悬于庙堂之上的标语，而是流淌在司法判决书里的精神，是铭刻在执法者心中的准则！

我梦想有一天，当川普的演讲、许章润的文章、甚至那幅“习跪川普”的漫画，出现在我们的屏幕上时，我们不再用“梳理”去定罪，不再用“觉得”去审判，而是用“对话”去理解，用“互鉴”去吸收，用“包容”去超越！因为真正的文明，从不怕异见；真正的强大，从不惧批评！

我梦想有一天，从保山的田野，到上海的弄堂，从北京的学府，到广州的市井，每一个角落，每一个心灵，都能沐浴在“言论自由”的阳光下。那时，我们将不再需要“血书”来控诉不公，不再需要“上诉”来乞求正义。因为自由，已成为我们空气的一部分；因为思想，已成为我们生命不可分割的尊严。

我知道，这个梦想，在有些人听来，或许是痴人说梦；在有些人看来，或许是大逆不道。他们说：“网络非法外之地！”——是的，网络不是法外之地，但法律更不是钳制思想的牢笼！他们说：“要维护核心！”——是的，要维护核心，但真正的维护，是让核心在真理的辩论中愈显光辉，而非在沉默的恐惧中走向孤立！

今天，我身陷囹圄，但我的思想，早已飞越这高墙电网。今天，我形单影只，但我的声音，终将汇入那追求自由与正义的滚滚洪流。因为我知道，“公义如江河滔滔，信实如溪水长流”——这是人类文明的铁律，也是历史前进的车轮！

我梦想有一天，昆明监狱的大门为我打开，不是因为我“认罪”，而是因为真理得到了昭雪；不是因为我“屈服”，而是因为法治战胜了强权。当我走出这扇门，我要做的第一件事，不是拥抱自由，而是拥抱我的同胞——拥抱那些曾因言获罪的人，拥抱那些仍在沉默中挣扎的人，拥抱那些为思想自由而战斗的人！

我有一个梦想。

我梦想有一天，这片土地上的每一个孩子，都能在课堂上自由地辩论，在书本中自由地探索，在网络上自由地表达——他们的梦想，不会被“口袋罪”扼杀，他们的未来，不会被“莫须有”断送。

我梦想有一天，中华民族的伟大复兴，不是建立在万马齐喑的恐惧之上，而是建立在百家争鸣的活力之中；不是依靠对异见的镇压，而是依靠对真理的追求；不是源于对思想的禁锢，而是源于对文明的自信！

这个梦想，深深扎根于中国宪法的土壤，深深契合于人类命运共同体的蓝图！

今天，我站在监狱的窗前，望着铁窗外那一小片天空。我知道，黎明前的黑暗最是浓重，但我也知道，黎明，终将到来。

我梦想着那一天——

当自由的钟声，在昆明的上空敲响； 当正义的曙光，照亮每一个阴暗的角落； 当思想的翅膀，不再被镣铐束缚； 当文明的对话，取代了愚昧的审判——

到那时，孩子们将在阳光下歌唱：“自由了！自由了！感谢上帝，我们终于自由了！”

我有一个梦想。

生命不息，战斗不止。

——陈京元 于昆明狱中 公元2024年4月