Of Paper and Blood

There are documents written on paper that nevertheless weigh heavier than stone. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights is such a document. On December 10, 1948, in a Paris still bearing the wounds of war like an old man's scars, the United Nations General Assembly proclaimed the thirty articles that have since served as beacons of civilization. Or rather, were meant to.

Imagine this: The world had just peered into the abyss. The chimneys of Auschwitz had gone out, but the smoke still lingered in memory. Hiroshima and Nagasaki had shown what humanity was capable of when left to its own devices. And in this moment of collective shock, in this rare instant of clarity, representatives from all over the world came together to formulate something that should, in fact, be self-evident: that every human being has rights, inalienable, indivisible, simply because they are human.

Eleanor Roosevelt, the widow of the American president, chaired the committee that drafted the declaration. It is said that she never raised her voice. Nor was it necessary. The voices of the dead spoke loud enough.

The Palais de Chaillot, where the declaration was adopted, overlooks the Eiffel Tower. The delegates gathered there—representatives from West and East, North and South, democracies and dictatorships—knew they were making history. Forty-eight states voted in favor. None voted against, although eight abstained: Saudi Arabia, South Africa, and the six Eastern Bloc countries. The Soviet Union, it seems, already suspected that this declaration could one day be used against it. It was right, albeit in a different way than it had imagined.

Seventy-seven years later

Seventy-seven years have passed since then. Almost eight decades. And if we look out the window today, on this tenth of December 2025—what do we see? Have those thirty articles changed the world? Or has the world forgotten those thirty articles, as one forgets a youthful dream when life gets serious?

The answer, as is so often the case with important questions, is not a simple one. Human rights have undoubtedly enabled progress. They have delegitimized dictatorships, they have given the oppressed a voice, they have provided lawyers and judges with a set of tools. At the same time, however, they are violated daily, with a matter-of-factness that is frightening. And nowhere is this violation carried out as systematically, as cold-bloodedly, as comprehensively as in the People's Republic of China.

One could now talk about Tibet, about the Uyghurs in Xinjiang, about the democracy movement in Hong Kong. All these issues deserve attention, all these issues deserve outrage. But on this Human Rights Day, I would like to draw attention to a persecution that is perhaps less well-known, but no less cruel: the persecution of Falun Dafa.

Truthfulness, Compassion, Forbearance

Falun Dafa, also known as Falun Gong, is a spiritual practice that originated in China in the early 1990s. It combines meditative exercises with a philosophy of life based on three principles: Truthfulness, Compassion, and Forbearance. One might think that such a thing poses no threat. One might think that a state that calls itself socialist would have bigger concerns than people meditating in the park. One would be wrong.

In 1998, at a time when the persecution had not yet begun, the Chinese government conducted a survey. The result must have alarmed those in power: There were more Falun Gong practitioners than members of the Communist Party. Seventy to one hundred million people professed Truthfulness, Compassion, and Forbearance. Seventy to one hundred million people following a practice that was not under the control of the Party.

For a regime that views any independent movement as a potential threat, this was intolerable. The Chinese Communist Party, it must be understood, tolerates no competition. Not in the political sphere, not in the economic, not in the spiritual. All voluntary organizations, all religions, all media outlets, all educational institutions must submit to its control. Those who do not are suppressed. It is a simple principle, and it is a brutal one.

A Threefold Order

The decision to persecute was essentially made by one man: Jiang Zemin, then Chairman of the CCP. Other members of the Politburo advocated for a more diplomatic approach. They knew that Falun Gong was peaceful, that its practitioners harbored no political ambitions. But Jiang Zemin prevailed. His motivation, observers report, was personal. He envied Falun Gong's popularity. He believed he could consolidate his power through a campaign of destruction reminiscent of the Cultural Revolution.

In July 1999, Jiang Zemin issued the order that has since destroyed the lives of millions. In all its brutality, it read: "Destroy their reputation, ruin them financially, and destroy them physically." It was a threefold order, and it mobilized the entire Chinese state apparatus: the army, the media, the public security forces, the police, the military police, the state security forces, the judiciary, the National People's Congress, and the diplomatic corps.
... But what was it that so alarmed the party leadership? It wasn't just the sheer number of practitioners. It was also the ideology that Falun Dafa espouses. The atheist state party, which since Mao's time had sought to control or destroy any religious and spiritual expression, saw the principles of Truthfulness, Compassion, and Forbearance as a fundamental challenge. The state news agency Xinhua put it disarmingly frankly shortly after the persecution began: Falun Dafa's principles had nothing in common with the socialist, ethical, and cultural progress the party sought.

One must consider the irony of these words. A party that operates forced labor camps where people are tortured for their beliefs presumes to speak about ethics. A party that has falsified its own history, covered up its crimes, and suppressed all dissent claims a monopoly on truth. It is this combination of brutality and hypocrisy that makes the system so repulsive.

In June 1999, even before the official start of the persecution, Jiang Zemin established a special agency: the 610 Office. It is a Gestapo-like institution operating outside the law. Its sole purpose is to destroy Falun Gong. The parallels to history are obvious. They are deliberate.

The Machinery of Lies

The methods of persecution are diverse and systematic. The state's propaganda machine was set in motion at full speed. More than two thousand newspapers and one thousand magazines, all under the absolute control of the Party, were flooded with slander. Within six months, more than three hundred thousand articles defaming Falun Gong appeared. State television broadcast seven hours of anti-Falun Gong propaganda daily. The books of founder Li Hongzhi were publicly burned—a scene reminiscent of the darkest chapters of history.

Particularly insidious was the so-called self-immolation in Tiananmen Square in January 2001. State media claimed that five Falun Gong practitioners had set themselves on fire. The images circulated around the world, intended to demonstrate how dangerous the movement was. However, analyses of the video footage revealed inconsistencies. Independent observers concluded that it was a staged event—a propaganda stunt to justify the persecution.

Of Torture and Organ Harvesting

The physical persecution is even more gruesome than the propaganda. More than 87,000 cases of torture have been documented. More than one million people have been sent to labor camps. And these are only the confirmed cases, the tip of an iceberg whose true extent is unknown. The methods of torture are manifold: electric shocks, sleep deprivation, forced feeding, rape, psychiatric abuse. Anyone wanting to know more is advised to study the reports. But you should have a strong stomach.

The darkest chapter, however, is organ harvesting. Yes, you read that right. Independent investigations have revealed that Falun Gong practitioners have their organs harvested while they are still alive in order to sell them on the lucrative transplant market. An independent tribunal in London, the so-called China Tribunal, chaired by Sir Geoffrey Nice, reached a clear verdict in 2019: Forced organ harvesting is taking place, it is being promoted by the Chinese state, and the main victims are Falun Gong practitioners. It is a crime against humanity, whose industrial-scale coldness is reminiscent of the worst excesses of the twentieth century.

Voices Against the Silence

One might ask: Where is the world? Where is the outcry? Where are the sanctions? The answer is both sobering and shameful. The world is looking away. The world has other concerns. The world needs China as a trading partner, as an investor, as a market.

And yet, there is support. It comes from human rights organizations like Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, which have been drawing attention to the persecution for years. It comes from the Society for Threatened Peoples in Göttingen, which tirelessly fights for the release of imprisoned practitioners. It comes from doctors in many countries who are campaigning against organ harvesting. It comes from individual politicians who have the courage to ask uncomfortable questions.

On December 12, 2013, the European Parliament passed a resolution recommending that its member states publicly condemn organ harvesting. The US State Department regularly points to the persecution in its annual reports. The UN Special Rapporteur on Torture, Manfred Nowak, documented numerous cases during his tenure. In October 2025, a hearing was held before the US Commission on International Religious Freedom, where experts highlighted the CCP's ongoing campaign to completely eliminate Falun Gong. The G7 countries have condemned transnational repression. These are signs of hope, but they are not enough.

Resistance from Within

In China itself, courageous lawyers have attempted to defend Falun Gong practitioners in court. Most of them have paid a high price: the revocation of their licenses, harassment, arrest, and torture. The most well-known among them, Gao Zhisheng, once dubbed the "conscience of China," was abducted and tortured multiple times. He spent years of his life in solitary confinement. His fate is representative of all those who dare to defy the system.

Since 2015, when a new law allowed direct complaints to the highest judicial authorities, more than 196,000 Chinese citizens have filed criminal charges against Jiang Zemin. It is an act of resistance that, given the power dynamics, seems almost heroic. Anyone who files such a complaint in China risks becoming a victim themselves. The authorities do not respond to these complaints with investigations against the accused, but rather with repression against the complainants.

In parallel, a remarkable movement has formed: the Tuidang movement, in which millions of Chinese have publicly declared their withdrawal from the Communist Party and its affiliated organizations. It is a silent protest that eludes the state's complete control. More than 200 million people are said to have joined this movement. Whether this figure is accurate cannot be verified. But even if it were only half that number, it would be a sign that the resistance has not been broken.

The persecution has now lasted for 26 years. 26 years of systematic human rights violations. 26 years of torture and murder. 26 years too long. Millions of people in China, who have done nothing more than practice meditation and strive for truthfulness, compassion, and forbearance, continue to suffer persecution that shows no signs of abating.

A Commitment

What remains to be done? The answer is unsatisfying in its simplicity: Look. Don't look away. Inform yourself. Contact your elected representatives. Sign petitions. Talk to others about it. They are small steps, certainly. But small steps become paths, and paths become roads.

Edmund Burke, the great conservative thinker of the eighteenth century, once said: "For the triumph of evil, only one thing is necessary: ​​that good people do nothing." It is a statement that has lost none of its validity.

When the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was proclaimed in Paris on December 10, 1948, its authors had a dream. It was the dream of a world in which human dignity is inviolable. Not just on paper, but in reality. Not just for some, but for everyone. Seventy-seven years later, this dream has not yet been realized. But it has not died either. It lives on in every person who refuses to accept injustice. It lives on in every practitioner who, despite all persecution, clings to truthfulness, compassion, and forbearance. It lives on in each of us who has the courage to look.

Human Rights Day is not just a day of remembrance. It is a reminder. And it is a commitment.

Sapere aude!

S. 

The Freytag appears every Friday as a literary column. 📚📘📖

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