I meant to blog about Tiananmen on June 4, but because I was abroad, I didn’t get the chance. However, a little over a month on from the 19th anniversary of the crackdown is as good a time as any – particularly given the fact that the Olympics are approaching fast (algal blooms or not).
I personally find it very hard to describe how I feel about China. I’ve no doubt I’d feel very different about it had I been raised in Beijing – and comparatively indifferent if I were raised outside of Asia altogether. But I am from Hong Kong, which has its own very unique relationship with China, and I am convinced that the massacre that unfolded in early June, 1989, formed an integral part of how I feel about this fascinating country.
I remember distinctly the tension that mounted in the region prior to the crackdown. The anguish that followed the killings was palpable throughout Hong Kong. Black armbands were worn as a show of solidarity to the students who gathered in their thousands to inform the Communist leaders that enough was enough. Black flags hung from the aerials on people’s cars. I was seven, but I wasn’t ignorant of what was going on over the border. I do thank my parents in particular for sanitising it, but informing me nonetheless of what was going on whenever I asked.
The TV reports droned day and night; the shaky footage spelling a tale of flames, seemingly faceless PLA troops and carnage. And then an ordinary man stepped in and changed everything. White shirt, black trousers, a few shopping bags half-full. There is no way any writer could try and further deservingly glorify this man’s actions – the words for what he did haven’t been imagined yet. No one knows what happened to him. I like to think the people who whisked him away were kindly citizens, that he melted into obscurity and went on to live a long and happy life, aware of the resounding impact his stepping out into that tank-ridden avenue had.
But because he slipped away, all we are left is the moment captured in time, excitedly and palm-sweatingly captured on film. I can’t think of another image that sends such a clear message without the use of any words at all. One man had the courage to stand defiant in the face of oppression. It would be a sickening injustice to him and those who fell if people today didn’t join together in a bid to remind China that there are many who have not forgotten about the systematic annihilation meted out to these students and their fellow pro-democracy supporters.
I keep a Chinese prayer for Tiananmen beside my bed, because I don’t want to forget about what happened. I sincerely wish the Chinese people a wonderful Olympics. China is a different country from what it was. But at the very heart of it, it needs to admit, apologise and, ultimately, tell the truth.
The Tank Man PBS Frontline documentary (and from which I took the title quote)
The Tiananmen Mothers, seeking justice for their murdered children
South China Morning Post podcast I did live from the Victoria Park remembrance ceremony, June 2007
Video I took from the Victoria Park remembrance ceremony, June 2006
Ping Fan Luk Sei!
