2025年3月30日晚，前中共总书记胡耀邦之子胡德华因病逝世，享年77岁。生前曾担任《炎黄春秋》副社长，胡德华先生生前有一句极具穿透力的判断：“邓的改革是救党，胡的改革是救民。”这并非一句空泛的口号，而是对中国改革进程中两条不同路径的深刻总结。要理解这句话的分量，必须从中国八十年代改革的两种取向谈起：一种是围绕“政权稳定”展开的体制调整，另一种则是面向人民福祉的政治与社会制度重建。

一、邓小平的“救党改革”：稳定第一，保住政权

    邓小平在改革初期强调“发展是硬道理”，其主要目标是解决党在十年文革动乱之后的合法性危机。他的改革重点在于解放生产力、恢复经济秩序，通过引入市场机制、发展民营经济、吸引外资等手段，稳定社会局势，恢复党在人民中的威信。可以说，邓的改革首先是出于“救党”的需要。

    但这种改革始终是“在党的领导下”的改革，是体制内的改良，并没有触及政治体制的实质变化，也极度警惕“和平演变”。1989年之后，这种“救党式改革”走向保守，发展成为以维稳为核心的治理逻辑，逐步抑制了社会力量的独立成长空间。

二、胡耀邦的“救民改革”：以人为本，重建信任

    与邓小平的“党内稳定优先”相比，胡耀邦的改革更重视对人民的尊重。他积极推动平反冤假错案、提倡思想解放、鼓励青年直言、保护知识分子，并呼吁对农民和基层群体的关注。他的改革是一种“还人民以公义”的努力，是在政治伦理上对“文化大革命”造成的创伤进行道义补偿。

    更重要的是，胡耀邦主张逐步推进民主改革，加强党内监督，开放言论环境，使权力运行更为透明，这些都是从“救民”的角度出发，试图重建人民对国家的信任。

三、两者的冲突与现实落差

    胡耀邦的做法在党内被视为“过于理想化”，甚至“危险”。他的“救民改革”被党内保守派视为挑战既得利益的行为，最终导致其被迫辞职。邓小平尽管赞赏胡的清廉与务实，但在政治安全的考量下，选择了以李鹏为代表的保守路线，走上了“先经济、后政治，甚至无政治改革”的道路。

    于是，“救党”压过了“救民”，改革方向逐渐偏离最初那种理想主义的、为民的诉求，并且这样的局面成了国家执政的主基调，自此以后没有改变过，因为共产党也从建国后30年风风雨雨中“汲取”了大量执政的宝贵经验。

四、从“救党”到“救民”：中国该何去何从？

    “救党”式的改革解决了短期政权合法性和经济困境，却留下了深远的制度隐患。并不是不应该“救党”，而是不违背建党初衷式的“救党”。退一万步讲，你可以“一党专政、多党合作”但你这样的“创新”模式必须给全国人民一个不低于欧美、哪怕是日韩这样国家生活环境的结果。
    以GDP为核心的发展模式固然带来了繁荣的表象，但也带来了贫富差距扩大、环境污染、道德滑坡和法治倒退。更严重的是，政府与民众之间逐渐出现了信任鸿沟，社会在表面稳定的背后，积累着巨大的不满与怨气。

    没有将人的主权自由当成“大政方针”的结果便会引发一系列民生隐患和灾难，强制计划生育和强迫生育、有毒食品泛滥、人体器官合法化摘取造成的人口失踪、教育沦为政权的工具而不是启蒙、言论管制带来的一系列思想禁锢等等。这系列问题背后却总被一套套冠冕堂皇的“经济发展”“社会稳定”话语所掩盖。这些话语看似合理，却往往是谎言的外衣，是为延续权力而制造的心理幻象。

    当下，许多中国人已经习惯于生活在这样的谎言中——从“相信谎言”，到“识破谎言”，再到“配合谎言”乃至“传播谎言”。为了保住饭碗、获得利益、维护表面和平，人人学会了说假话，对别人、对上级、对自己，甚至包括很多基督徒对上帝的态度。中国人的生存模式，已经成了一种互相欺骗、彼此麻木的复杂博弈。这种道德的空心化，不是国家强盛的象征，而是走向崩溃的早期症候。

    而“救民”式的改革，在八十年代虽有微光，却未能形成制度支撑。在缺乏言论自由和权力监督的环境中，人民的权利极易被漠视，改革一旦失去对人民的尊重与回应，便只能依靠强制维稳维系秩序，而非民心所向。

    在当前中国社会不断面对经济下滑、青年失业、疫情防控过度带来的创伤、教育内卷、医疗资源不公等问题时，人们开始重新反思：我们究竟需要怎样的改革？是继续“救党”，还是转向真正意义上的“救民”？这个问题，越来越清晰地摆在人们眼前。

五、胡耀邦留下的光

    胡耀邦的改革失败了，但并未被遗忘。他留下的那道光，不只是一些历史细节，更是一种信念——相信人民、尊重人民、依靠人民。这种信念在今天依然珍贵，依然是这个民族走出黑暗的希望所在。“邓的改革是救党，胡的改革是救民”这句话，犹如一面镜子，让我们看清过去，也照亮未来。

    但话说回来，从底层社会的现实情况出发，也确实可以理解一种悖论：在一个公民意识普遍匮乏、教育程度分布极度不均、信息渠道严重封闭的国度里，“高压”似乎反而提供了一种“表面稳定”。正如有人所说，“大多数老百姓没有觉醒的意识”，他们对自由、法治、尊严并没有切身的渴望，而更多的是“日子能不能继续过下去”。这并不是在为专政开脱，而是承认一种历史阶段性的无奈。

    但问题的关键在于——这种“稳定”是暂时的，且代价极高。它是以压制真相、牺牲公平、毁灭良知为代价维持的“秩序幻觉”，更是以剥夺人民的思想、剥离社会的生机为代价筑起的权力围墙。当人民成为“囚徒”，国家就已经离真正的稳定越来越远。

    这让我想起圣经中的一则记载：所罗门死后，他的儿子罗波安即位，有百姓来请求减轻重负，年长的谋士建议他应体恤百姓，但年轻人却鼓动他说：“我父亲使你们负重轭，我要加重你们的轭；我父亲用鞭子责打你们，我要用蝎子责打你们。”结果便是十个支派叛乱，以色列分裂为南北两国，最终一盘散沙式的被灭国，各支派消散在历史长河中。

    这是一个政权不顾民生的例子和结果，它提醒我们：当“党”的强大完全不顾“民”的苦难，那它的“强大”就只是沙堆之塔，经不起风雨。真正的强国，绝不是建立在党派巩固的基础上，而是建立在公民自觉、社会自治、制度公平的基础之上的依法治国，而不是“以人治国”。

    也许现在的中国，还不具备全面“强民”的条件。但这不是理由，不是说“人民未觉醒”就可以无尽压制，相反，这正是改革的方向。即使迈出一步，也比原地踏步更有希望。我们不需要继续一个“更强的党”，我们需要的是“更清醒的民”。只有当人民真正强大起来，国家才能走向真正的稳固与尊严；否则，只是不断重复着罗波安的错误，终将走向撕裂的未来。

“Saving the Party” and “Saving the People” — For Whom Are They Really?

On the evening of March 30, 2025, Hu Dehua, son of former CCP General Secretary Hu Yaobang, passed away at the age of 77. In life he served as Vice President of Yanhuang Chunqiu, and he once made a piercing judgment: “Deng’s reform was to save the Party; Hu’s reform was to save the people.” This is no hollow slogan but a profound summary of two distinct paths in China’s reform process. To grasp its weight, we must first consider the two orientations of China’s 1980s reforms: one focused on “regime stability” through institutional adjustment, the other on reconstructing political and social systems for the people’s welfare.

I. Deng Xiaoping’s “Reform to Save the Party”: Stability First, Preserve the Regime

At the outset of reform, Deng Xiaoping stressed that “development is the hard truth,” aiming chiefly to resolve the Party’s legitimacy crisis after the decade of Cultural Revolution turmoil. His reforms liberated productive forces and restored economic order by introducing market mechanisms, fostering private enterprise, and attracting foreign investment—thereby stabilizing society and restoring the Party’s prestige among the people. In essence, Deng’s reform was born of a need to “save the Party.”

Yet this reform was always “under the Party’s leadership,” a systeminternal improvement that never touched the core of the political structure and remained acutely wary of “peaceful evolution.” After 1989, this “Partysaving reform” turned conservative, evolving into a governance logic centered on maintaining stability that steadily stifled the independent growth of societal forces.

II. Hu Yaobang’s “Reform to Save the People”: PeopleCentered, Rebuilding Trust

Compared with Deng’s “Partyfirst” approach, Hu Yaobang’s reform placed greater emphasis on respect for the people. He actively redressed wrongful convictions, promoted ideological emancipation, encouraged youth to speak frankly, protected intellectuals, and called for attention to peasants and grassroots groups. His reform was an effort to “restore justice to the people,” a moral compensation for the wounds inflicted by the Cultural Revolution.

More importantly, Hu advocated gradual democratic reform, strengthened intraparty supervision, and opened the space for public discussion—measures all undertaken from the standpoint of “saving the people,” seeking to rebuild popular trust in the state.

III. Conflict and the Gap Between Ideal and Reality

Within the Party, Hu Yaobang’s measures were viewed as “overly idealistic” and even “dangerous.” His “peoplesaving reform” was seen by conservatives as a threat to vested interests, ultimately forcing his resignation. Although Deng admired Hu’s integrity and pragmatism, he chose political security over democratic experiment, aligning with conservatives led by Li Peng and taking the path of “economics first, politics later—perhaps no political reform at all.”

Thus, “saving the Party” overrode “saving the people,” and the direction of reform gradually veered away from its original, idealistic, propeople aspirations. This pattern became the state’s governing norm and has remained so, as the Communist Party drew from thirty turbulent years since its founding a wealth of lessons in maintaining power.

IV. From “Saving the Party” to “Saving the People”: China’s Future Path

“Partysaving” reforms addressed the Party’s shortterm legitimacy and the economy’s crisis, but they left deep institutional vulnerabilities. It is not that “saving the Party” is inherently wrong, but that it must not betray the Party’s founding principles. In the extreme, oneparty rule plus multiparty cooperation might be acceptable—so long as that “innovative” model delivers to all citizens a standard of living no worse than that of the U.S., Europe, or even Japan and South Korea.

A GDPcentric development model certainly yielded the appearance of prosperity, but it also produced widening wealth gaps, environmental pollution, moral decline, and a regression of the rule of law. More seriously, it created a trust chasm between government and people, burying massive discontent beneath a veneer of stability.

When a system fails to treat human freedom and sovereignty as its guiding principles, it spawns a cascade of social hazards and disasters: enforced birth control and compelled childbirth, rampant toxic foodstuffs, legalized organ harvesting causing unexplained disappearances, education degraded into an instrument of power rather than enlightenment, and thoughtcontrol via censorship. These problems are perpetually obscured by lofty rhetoric of “economic development” and “social stability,” which often serves as a deceptive cloak for lies—psychological mirages fabricated to perpetuate power.

Today, many Chinese have grown accustomed to living within such lies—believing them, seeing through them, then complying with them, even perpetuating them. For the sake of job security, personal gain, and maintaining superficial peace, everyone has learned to tell lies—toward others, toward superiors, even, for many Christians, toward God Himself. The Chinese survival model has become a complex game of mutual deception and collective numbness. This hollowingout of moral integrity is not a sign of national strength but an early symptom of collapse.

Hu Yaobang’s “peoplesaving” reform, though it glimmered in the 1980s, never found institutional support. In an environment devoid of freedom of speech and checks on power, the people’s rights are easily neglected; once reform loses respect for and responsiveness to the populace, it can only rely on coercive stability to maintain order, rather than genuine popular will.

As contemporary China grapples with economic slowdown, youth unemployment, pandemicoverreach traumas, educational overcompetition, and unequal medical resources, people are beginning to ask anew: What kind of reform do we truly need? Continue “saving the Party,” or turn to genuinely “saving the people”? This question increasingly stands before us in stark clarity.

V. The Light Left by Hu Yaobang

Although Hu Yaobang’s reform failed, it has not been forgotten. The light he left behind is more than historical detail—it is a conviction: trust the people, respect the people, rely on the people. This conviction remains precious today, the hope by which this nation can emerge from darkness. “Deng’s reform saved the Party; Hu’s reform saved the people” stands like a mirror, revealing our past and illuminating our future.

Yet from the grassroots reality one can grasp a paradox: in a nation lacking widespread civic awareness, with extreme disparities in education and severely closed information channels, “high pressure” may appear to offer “surface stability.” As some observe, “Most ordinary people have no awakening—they do not deeply yearn for freedom, rule of law, or dignity, but only worry whether they can keep on living.” This is not an excuse for authoritarianism but an admission of historicalstage helplessness.

The key, however, is that such “stability” is temporary and must be paid for dearly. It is an “illusion of order” maintained at the cost of suppressed truth, sacrificed fairness, and destroyed conscience—a power fortress built by depriving people of thought and stripping society of vitality. When the people become prisoners, the nation drifts ever further from true stability.

This reminds me of a biblical account (1 Kings 12:6–11 NKJV): After Solomon’s death, his son Rehoboam ascended the throne. When the people petitioned him to lighten the burdens imposed by his father, the elder advisors urged compassion, but the young king rejected their counsel:

“My father made your yoke heavy, but I will add to your yoke; my father chastised you with whips, but I will chastise you with scourges” (NKJV).
As a result, ten tribes rebelled, Israel split into north and south, and the kingdom ultimately fell apart, the tribes scattered through history.

This is an example of a regime that ignored its people’s welfare—and its outcome. It warns us: when a party’s strength utterly neglects the people’s suffering, that “strength” is but a sandpile tower, unable to withstand storm and rain. A truly strong nation is built not on the consolidation of a party but on civic consciousness, social selfgovernance, and fair institutions under the rule of law—not on rule by man.

Perhaps China is not yet ready for a full “peoplestrengthening” reform. But that is not an excuse—claiming “the people are not awake” does not justify endless repression; rather, it marks the direction for reform. Even a single step forward offers more hope than standing still. We do not need “a stronger Party”; we need “stronger people.” Only when the people are truly empowered can the nation attain genuine stability and dignity; otherwise, we repeat Rehoboam’s mistake and march toward a fractured future.