因在1989年6月4日凌晨,與加拿大漢學家 Michael Martin Day 一起創作並製作《大屠殺》錄音磁帶,並傳播到20多個城市,以及組織拍攝詩歌電影《安魂》而被捕,判刑四年,受盡折磨,曾在獄中自殺兩次。出獄後長期從事底層故事採集和地下文學創作,并通過「二渠道」出版了被中宣部和公安部聯合查禁的《沉淪的聖殿》《中國底層訪談錄》。
2007年,紐約經紀人彼得•伯恩斯坦在《巴黎評論》看到黃文翻譯的《底層》片段,立即取得全球版權。經數家出版社競爭,2008年5月該書英文版The Corpse Walker: Real Life Stories: China From the Bottom Up由蘭登書店出版,令廖亦武在西方一夜成名。彼得•伯恩斯坦評價道:「廖亦武不僅是中國當代作家中最優秀、最具挑戰性和創新的一位,更是一位勇敢大膽的有著獨立意志的人,任何時候都會捍衛自己自由言論和自由思考的權利(Liao is not only a fine writer but a courageous and brave and individual willing to stand up at every turn for his right to speak and think freely.)。」
A game of chance between one person and an empire seems to present a great disparity in power, but I won't necessarily lose.As national memory is something abstract and easy to change in accordance with the needs of the regime, the original material evidence that constitutes history can be constantly altered, replaced and destroyed... but the memory of personal disgrace will seep into the blood, instinctively affecting an individual's speech and behavior ——and this stigma can never be erased.
Most of my manuscripts are locked up in the filing cabinets of the Ministry of Security, and the agents there study and ponder them repeatedly, more carefully than the creator himself. The guys working this racket have super memories; a certain chief of the Chengdu Public Security Bureau can still recite the poems I published in an underground magazine in the 1980s. And when literati write nostalgically to capture a portion of literary history, the real history may be locked in the safe of the security department.
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上面兩段話摘自臺灣允晨文化公司二〇一一年發表的《六四.我的證詞》繁體中文版127 和128 頁(S. Fischer Verlage 的德譯書名《為了一首歌和一百首歌:來自中國監獄的見證人報告》,譯者Hans Peter Hoffmann)。為什麼要這樣寫?我已忘記了。就如時過境遷的老電影, 一個個鏡頭因膠片受損而模糊不清。我絞盡腦汁重播,沒有用——是的, 這本書的草稿我寫了三遍,紙比獄中寫作使用的紙要好許多,監獄裡的紙太軟太脆,下筆不能重。而監獄外的紙,硬度和柔韌度都足夠,不必擔心被筆尖戳破。所以,我憋足勁兒朝一頁紙裡填字,幾千?一萬?更多?一頁紙到底能塞多少螞蟻大小的字?鬼知道。
The above two paragraphs are excerpted from pages 127 and 128 of the traditional Chinese-character version of June 4th: My Testimony published by Taiwan Yunchen Culture Company in 2011 (New Harvests’English translation title For A Song and A Hundred Songs: A Poet’s Journey Through A Chinese Prison, 2013, translated by Wenguang Wen).Why do I write like this? I’ve forgotten. Like an old movie of past times and places, each shot is blurred due to damage to the film. I rack my brains as I replay it, but to no avail—yes, I wrote the draft of that book three times, and the paper later was much better than the paper I used for writing in prison, which was so soft and brittle I had to write very lightly. Paper outside prison has adequate solidity and flexibility, so you don't have to worry about puncturing it with the tip of a pen. Thus, I restrained myself and filled in a page of paper, and then how many thousand? Ten thousand? More? How many ant-sized words can be packed onto a page?Who knows.
我因為兩首詩而坐了四年牢,這兩首詩,一首《屠殺》,一首《安魂》,都是抗議和譴責一九八九年六月四日凌晨開始的天安門屠殺。由於極度憤怒,我在當時暫居我家的加拿大漢學家 Michael Martin Day(戴邁河)的協助下,朗誦了《屠殺》,製作成錄音磁帶,傳播到全國二十多個城市; 跟著又「糾集烏合之眾」,將《安魂》拍攝成藝術電影。一九九〇年三月十六日,我被捕入獄。大約有二十多名地下詩人和作家因這起案件而遭羈押審訊,可作為反革命集團案被告出現在第一份《起訴書》中的一共八人。
I spent four years in prison for two poems, "Massacre" and "Requiem", both of which railed against and condemned the Tian’anmen massacre that began in the early hours of June 4, 1989. Out of extreme anger, I recited "Massacre" with the assistance of the Canadian sinologist Michael Martin Day, who was temporarily living in my home at the time,and made it into an audio tape, which was spread to over 20 cities across the country; then, after mustering a mob of sorts, we made "Requiem"into a performance art film. On March 16, 1990, I was arrested and imprisoned. About two dozen underground poets and writers were detained and interrogated, but only eight would be named as defendants in the first indictment in the case against this counter-revolutionary clique.
I went through an interrogation center, a detention center, the No. 2 Prison, and the No. 3 Prison in Sichuan Province. During the two years and two months in the detention center, I wrote and preserved twentyeight short poems and eight letters, which I hid in the spine of a hardcover edition of the medieval novel, Romance of the Three Kingdoms. I used paste to "repair" and restore it before it was eventually taken out of the prison after passing through many hands. In the last prison, the No. 3 Prison in northeast Sichuan, I secretly wrote more than 200 pages of manuscripts. Over the years, the names and contents of these novel manuscripts have been changed and expanded many times. Now their names are fixed as The Transmigration of Ants, Love in the Time of Mao,and Underground Poets in the Time of Deng. They’re all linked to For A Song and A Hundred Songs, written after I was released from prison,to form a four-volume book with a collective title of Go on Living.The process of bringing the first three volumes of Go on Living out of the prison was extremely complicated. During the sixteen years from January 31, 1994 until September 14, 2010, when I was out of prison and was approved to go abroad for the first time, these prison manuscripts were all hidden in a certain place, wrapped in a lot of messy disguises(such as used diapers). I never thought of doing anything with them, and mentioned them to no one, so I was never really in any danger.
The epilogue of Underground Poets in the Time of Deng describes the sudden death of Hu Yaobang, the most enlightened general secretary in the history of the CCP, in the spring of 1989, which triggered a movement for political reform and millions to take to the streets in demonstrations in dozens of major cities across the country. My contemporary pioneer poet, Haizi committed suicide by lying on the rails at Guojiaying Railway Station in Shanhaiguan, a coastal town and the start of the Great Wall, not too far from Beijing. After that, I was out of prison writing A Song and A Hundred Songs.
In the winter of 1992, I was transferred to the No. 3 Prison, where many political prisoners related to the June 4th Tiananmen Square massacre were detained. I slept on a top bunk in a group cell. In the beginning, I wrote some irrelevant random thoughts that I let everyone pass around, but I had secret ulterior motives.
Originally, it was impossible for me to keep these secret manuscripts myself, as the cells were searched irregularly. But I knew a hygienist downstairs who had been locked up there since the start of "liberation" in the 1950s. He had been a reporter from the Kuomintang’s "Mop Up Daily".As he had been detained for so long, the prison guards ignored him. He was well-read, and everyone called him Old Man Yang. Every time I finished writing a fragment, I handed over the manuscript to him to hide.
Old Man Yang knew many prisoners who’d served their sentences and continued to stay in prison for employment purposes. They’d been friends for decades, so Old Man Yang gave them my manuscript to take out of the prison to mail. This went on for a while, but I never expected all the manuscripts would be collected in one place—a very labyrinthine miracle.
When I started writing, I was very bewildered and didn't know what was going to happen, so I used the Book of Changes to make a divination as was my old habit, and the result was "kun". The hexagram Kun symbolizes Mother Earth extending in all directions. Could it be that I could write as much as I wanted? Can my pen, like my legs, go all the way to the horizon along the unchanging "kun" of the six lines? I have been a bit of a talker since I was a child, and suddenly I felt that this Old Man Yang was sent by God.
Our group of June 4th political prisoners was closely monitored from the moment we entered the prison. Someone thought about organizing, but it was impossible. From my point of view, this prison was a living history museum, as several generations of political prisoners were imprisoned there. Our group was actually very lucky. Not only did we receive international attention because of the Tiananmen massacre, but we also had the sympathy of the whole of society at the time. At the same time, I noticed that there are still many ‘counterrevolutionaries’ here from the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s. These people struggled desperately in the bottomless black hole the Communist Party had created, but they were forgotten, including Old Man Yang, who on the surface supported the government and flattered the prison guards, but in his heart, was at odds with the Communist Party. In order to survive, he had no choice but to remain calm, as if his vocal cords had been severed. At the time I knew him, he was over seventy years old and felt there was nothing to hope for in his life, until he unexpectedly discovered that I was secretly writing. Maybe he pinned his slim hopes of seeing history recorded on me, as passing on manuscripts is a very risky thing to do. Old Man Yang had contact with many June 4th political prisoners, and several of them were writing. Why didn't he help others? He also disingenuously stated he never had anything to do with such things.
I remember one time when we were chatting casually, he asked,"What do you think about history?" I replied, "History is like a giant tree, and our group of June 4th political prisoners who’ve received so much international attention is like the part that can be seen from the ground. Absorbing the sun and rain, the branches are flourishing, and the spotlights of the whole world are trained on us. But beneath the ground there are many invisible roots in history. Without roots, there can be no big tree, so if I write history, I will not write the conspicuous part above, I will dig out the roots that spread everywhere in the ground and write of the tears of the roots that will never see the light of day." After hearing this, Old Man Yang was stunned for a few moments, and then silently walked away. After that, he often came to the cell, I gave him the manuscripts, and there were never any problems. As the prison authorities trusted him, he knew in advance when there would be searches.
Not long after I was released from prison, this Old Man Yang, and also the monk Sima who taught me how to play the flute, were also released. If they were alive now, they would both be over a hundred years old. They couldn’t possibly have lived to such an old age. Nevertheless, their spirits in heaven deserve comfort. And I have indeed written about them both in several of my books......
斯圖加特未來演講:看不見的戰爭—一本書怎樣擊敗一個帝國? The Stuttgart Future Speech——Invisible Warfare——How does a Book Defeat an Empire?
On January 18, 2023, the writer Liao Yiwu was invited to give the "Stuttgart Future Lecture" at the Stuttgart City Hall in Germany,subsequently published as "Invisible Warfare - How Does A Book Defeat An Empire?", which aroused widespread reactions. This speech not only concerns Liao Yiwu’s creative journey but is also a record and reflection on his witnessing of the times. Consequently, Taiwan Yunchen Culture is especially publishing a Chinese and English edition of the speech, so that more readers in the East and West can understand Liao Yiwu’s journey of resistance against the Chinese Communist Party’s totalitarianism through his literary works. This is Liao Yiwu's first collection of writings in both Chinese and English, and it is being issued simultaneously in the Western world.
這本書還同時收錄了從二〇一九年開始寫的多篇人權文學傑作——包括聲援香港雨傘革命,被捕判刑的作家王怡,詩人王藏,六四獄友李必豐等人,以及當時為營救諾貝爾和平獎得主劉曉波遺孀劉霞的多篇呼籲,也同時收錄上述諸君的詩文,讓讀者可以同時觀照與本文對應的文學讀本,篇篇深觸人心,令人動容。本書的譯文由加拿大漢學家戴邁河(Michael Martin Day)擔綱。他於一九八〇年代到山東大學、南京大學擔任文化交流學者, 一九八六年他再至中國,結識了劉曉波、廖亦武、貝嶺等詩人,從而接觸、翻譯和研究中國地下詩歌。一九八九年六四屠殺前夕,廖亦武創作了長詩《大屠殺》,他與廖亦武合製了《大屠殺》朗誦磁帶,後來廖亦武以「反革命宣傳煽動罪」名義被捕,隔年,戴邁河以「間諜」罪名被驅逐出境。因此,這本書的合作別具歷史文獻的意義。
This book also includes several masterpieces of human rights literature written by Liao since 2019—including support for the Umbrella Revolution in Hong Kong, for writer Wang Yi who was arrested and sentenced to prison, the poet Wang Zang, and the June Fourth convict Li Bifeng, etc. Several appeals by Liu Xia, the widow of Nobel Peace Prize winner Liu Xiaobo, are also included among the poems and essays of the above-mentioned gentlemen, so that readers may reflect on the corresponding literature at the same time. Each piece is deeply touching and moving. The translation of this book is led by the Canadian-born sinologist Michael Martin Day. In 1982-1984, he was a cultural exchange scholar at Shandong University and Nanjing University. In 1986-1988, he met Liu Xiaobo, Liao Yiwu, Bei Ling, and other poets in China, and thus encountered, studied, and began translating Chinese underground poetry.On the eve of the June 4th massacre in 1989, Liao Yiwu composed the long poem "Massacre", and Day and Liao co-produced the recitation tape of "Massacre" shortly thereafter. Later, Liao Yiwu was arrested on the charge of "counter-revolutionary propaganda and incitement", while Day was accused of espionage and deported. So, their collaboration on this book gives it the unique significance of an historical document.
Liao Yiwu has admitted, I once declared I was "fighting for the freedom of others", but I cannot seriously recall any prisoner of the empire whose fate of being slaughtered has been altered because I wrote of him or her. And this kind of truth is suffocating—---- Even so, this "Human Rights Literature Reader" is worthy of the reflection and continuous attention of all readers. Only reading can resist forgetting, and forgetting is exactly the effect of intimidation that totalitarian regimes wish to achieve.