Yang had good reason to be worried he might be disappeared.
In April this year, his brother messaged him to tell him that Chinese authorities were harassing and threatening their family back in China.
He asked him to stop his activism and sounded desperate.
Yang posted a screenshot of his brother’s messages in early April to Twitter (translation by Safeguard Defenders).
“You’re not a young kid anymore. Can’t you think about our parents before you do something? They’re already in their 60s and 70s, and they still need to worry about you.”
“I’m going to tell you something you won’t like. They’re living one day at a time. They’re not expecting you to be filial, just not to get them into trouble.”
“Think about the consequences before you doing something. Think about our elderly parents.”
“This is the era of big data, everything can be traced, everything can be monitored. Don’t think you’re safe just because you’re overseas. Your parents are still living at home, think about them.”
As an active Twitter user, with a good command of English (he had previously taught English) among other languages, and single, Yang threw himself into his activism work. He would have been acutely aware of reports of other activists’ families being threatened by Chinese authorities in China, as well as stories of kidnappings of the activists themselves in Southeast Asia when those threats failed to work. He was also likely aware of how local governments in the region often collaborated with Chinese police to have targets detained and illegally deported back to China. His visa would be no protection.
Facing these fears, on 20 April Yang published a “declaration to not commit suicide”, written two days earlier. He wrote:
“I still love this world… impossible to commit suicide in my 30s. If there’s no more online updates in 48 hours, please help to protest in front of CCP’s embassies.”