9
Tiananmen Square and Beyond

China's insurmountable image problem

This is one chapter that I would have preferred not to have written. At least it is possible to imagine scenarios far more agreeable than what finally happened in Beijing in the early summer of 1989. But as Deng intimated more than three years before the eventual crackdown, some kind of confrontation between government hardliners and the country's progressive forces was inevitable. In a period of less than two months, from April 18th to June 4th, the Tiananmen Square drama unfolded in Beijing and on television screens worldwide. The military repression that was finally ordered by Deng against an unarmed public was not only morally reprehensible, it was an enormous political mistake for which China is now payjng and will continue to pay for a long time.

If there ever was a news story where the heroes and villains were more clearly identifiable, I have yet to hear about it. Media representations highlighted the contrast: idealistic students suffer from a hunger strike imposed to create dialogue with the very government that was readying its army; a single man stands courageously in front of a line of menacing tanks; the homemade Goddess of Democracy statue is erected during the waning days of the protest and is later knocked down by People's Liberation Army soldiers, and so on. This is not only the stuff of news; it was a poignant drama especially fitting for quick and certain interpretations by broadcast journalists and by an international television-viewing public.

The story is more complex than what television revealed. Covering the story during its climactic moments was very difficult for journalists, particularly the television crews who had to avoid detection of their bulky equipment by the martial law soldiers. Consequently, video images of what is widely termed the 'Tiananmen Square Massacre' are unclear about the details of what happened the night of June 3rd and early morning of June 4th, a confusion that has been exploited by the Chinese in their post-Tiananmen Square propaganda. As it turns out — a fact that is now admitted even by several Western journalists — perhaps no one, or just a very few people, died at Tiananmen Square, and the body count reported by the media at the time is probably far greater than the actual number of deaths.¹

Chinese media accounts of the turmoil that appeared after martial law was declared were grossly distorted to fit the propagandist intentions of the government. Even so, Chinese television has presented some extremely provocative images of the turmoil that have not been seen by the world television-viewing public. Incredibly gruesome pictures of violent activity enacted by the people during the days leading up to the military crackdown, and the day after, are shown in the propaganda programs. I analyze the propaganda and describe the role of television throughout the period leading up to June 3rd and 4th later.

China's Revolutionary Moment

An extraordinary combination of events contributed to the revolutionary spirit that spread throughout China in the spring of 1989: the death of ousted Communist Party chief Hu Yaobang; Mikhail Gorbachev's visit to China a month later; stirring, uncompromising speeches given by Fang Lizhi advocating democracy, freedom, and science; the rise of a handful of bright and charismatic student leaders; the generally favorable coverage of the movement given by many broadcast and print journalists in China; the unforgettable television debate between Li Peng and student leaders; the hope that Zhao Ziyang, who had assumed Hu's position as top party official, would ultimately find a way to enact political reform within the top echelons of government; and agreeable early summer weather all played important roles.

These conditions and developments were fused onto circumstances that had already agitated the people — corruption and profiteering, bureaucratic inefficiency and unfairness, an unstable and unequal economy, political repression, lack of free speech and a free press — all those issues that I have already discussed at length. The student movement, including a boycott of classes, hunger strike, constant pressure on government and presence on television, and the defiance of martial law, became the catalyst for Chinese people from all walks of life — including many Communist Party members — to rally together and speak out in a kind of national catharsis not unlike the emotional charge we saw a few months later in Eastern Europe. And, in a manner that is also similar to what happened in East Germany in particular, Chinese political protestors did not advocate overthrow of the Communist Party or the dismantling of socialism. The ultimate consequences of the protestors' modest demands, however, could not lJe predicted. As eventually happened in Germany, it is likely that thoroughgoing political change would have resulted once the movement achieved sufficient momentum — a scenario that in fact seemed to be unfolding during the struggle in China. Regardless, in the midst of all the turmoil, a positive emotional climate emerged in China in the spring of 1989. Orville Schell observed that 'people seemed suddenly possessed by a sense of optimism, hope, and generosity ... there was ... a new feeling of fraternity, openness, and goodwill the likes of which I had never experi enced during fifteen years of visiting China' (Schell, 1989: 36).

The massive demonstration at Tiananmen Square was the culmination of nearly three years of episodic protests led by students in 20 major cities located mainly in the north. The wave of student demonstrations began in Hefei and Wuhan in early December 1986. Later that month, tens of thousands of students in Shanghai, and a smaller number in Beijing, took to the streets to demand political reform in what was becoming the largest show of force for democracy since 1978-9 (Nathan, 1985). Students were already being branded 'counterrevolutionaries' and were accused by the government of beating police. A fight between students and police broke out in Tiananmen Square on January 1st, 1987. Students in the square burned copies of the Beijing Daily, which had editorialized the pro-democracy movement as 'poisoned by capitalist ideas.'

These disturbances had repercussions. Although Deng blamed himself for the student uprisings in 1986 and 1987, he criticized the then CCP chief Hu Yaobang for protecting the students. Hu and a top national security official were subsequently dismissed by the politburo for being too lenient in their treatment of the student protestors. Party officials ultimately blamed creeping 'bourgeois liberalization' for the trouble and demanded that students be given new ideological training. They were required to demonstrate 'five loves': for socialism, the Communist Party, labor, science and technology, and the motherland. Already Deng, in his role as chief of military affairs, was coordinating forces in case the lessons were not well learned.

The protests didn't stop. Large demonstrations over the same issues resumed late in 1987 and took place episodically throughout 1988. A new wrinkle appeared: in Nanjing, riots broke out when some Chinese college students claimed that African students studying in China are given special and unwarranted privileges. The reasons for the Chinese students lashing out against the Africans are as much cultural as they are political. Nonetheless, the unsettled situation contributed to the unrest that was spreading in China; it further convinced the people that there are indeed different social classes in their supposedly classless society. Furthermore, the overly-reactive handling of the situation by police in Nanjing, as well as the constant military repression in Tibet, signalled what could happen elsewhere.

Through all this, Zhao Ziyang, who had assumed party leadership in late 1987, tried desperately to find a compromise solution that would permit economic and political development while appeasing both ends of the ideological spectrum — students and government hardliners — at the same time. In truth, Zhao was never on firm ground. His demise was rumored from the start of his tenure and his true position on many issues was never known. He praised Deng lavishly at the Thirteenth Congress in 1987, for instance, while he strongly criticized Chinese leadership, bureaucracy, and corruption. He advocated 'socialist democracy' and 'townhall politics' while also claiming that opposition parties are not needed in China. He continued to promise a bright economic future if market forces are allowed to function while at the same time claiming that gaps between rich and poor should not develop in the country. He embraced the students for their ideals but said that political turmoil cannot be tolerated.

The single event that lifted the revolutionary moment to epic proportions was the death of Hu Yaobang on April 15th, 1989. From the students' perspective, Hu was much more a hero than was his successor, the man who became their only sympathizer among top government leaders, Zhao. Distraught and sickly after an inglorious removal from his post in January 1987, the sincere and kindly Hu became a martyr for the students. His death spurred the biggest protest in Beijing in more than two years. About 10,000 students assembled in Tiananmen Square on April 18th to mourn him and to demand that the government reevaluate his contribution to the country. Besides praising Hu, the students again voiced their complaints about the array of enduring problems in China. It is extremely important to emphasize the importance of this gathering taking place in Tiananmen Square. For the Chinese there is no place to match the symbolic meaning of the square. The socialist nation was born there when Mao Zedong stood at Tiananmen Gate on October 1st, 1949, to proclaim the founding of the People's Republic. Furthermore, the square is huge: more than a million people can mill around Tiananmen Square at any one time.

A hard core group of young people refused to leave Tiananmen Square after April 18th. Three days later, the government took to television to warn the demonstrators to go home or face grave consequences. The very next day more than 150,000 citizens defied the government order by marching from Beijing University in the city's western suburbs to Tiananmen Square, a journey of more than 11 miles. Workers joined up with students and people all along the route cheered the youthful protestors, many of whom sang the socialist anthem, 'Internationale,' as they walked. The movement was not only gaining great momentum, it was becoming far better organized. Two days later, April 24th, students at the major universities in Beijing, all of which are located in the same part of town, escalated the confrontation by boycotting classes. Many of them joined the protest activities full-time. Sympathetic to the cause, their professors did not stand in the way. Informed and inspired by television reports of the activity in Beijing, political demonstrating also heated up in many other cities in China by early May. At the same time, anti-riot military forces were being mobilized in various parts of the country. The government continued to insist that Communist youth organizations, not the ad hoc student groups, were the proper channels for voicing opinions and settling differences. The ultimate rationale given by the government for its stern insistence on 'stability' was the future of the Chinese reformation itself. Deng insisted that 'ulterior motives' underlay the resistance; that a 'counterrevolutionary' rebellion was a threat to revolutionary progress, which, after 1979, meant the national reformation. Propaganda focused on one fundamental theme: reform requires unity among the Chinese people.

The Soviet Union designed and helped construct some of the buildings that surround Tiananmen Square in the 1950s. But during his visit to the People's Republic a month after the demonstrations in Beijing had begun, Mikhail Gorbachev was unable to visit the heart of the country because of its occupation by the students and their now-growing ranks of supporters. Gorbachev's visit, like the Hu memorial, further inspired the demonstrators who by now had become quite confident that their tactics were working. The Chinese government, of course, was deeply embarrassed about the situation when Gorbachev arrived. The Soviet leader used the occasion to call for world detente, suggested that domestic political turmoil is some times necessary, cautiously praised the students, and negotiated political issues with Deng, including demilitarization of the long-contested border between the two huge nations. But their meetings were greatly over-shadowed by what was going on downtown. Furthermore, the enormous corps of international journalists who had descended on Beijing to cover the historic Sino-Soviet meetings became far more caught up in the protests which by now had hundreds of thousands of people congregating in the square.

Immediately after Gorbachev's departure, the mood in the capital city became extremely tense and explosive. Zhao tried to find a compromise by guaranteeing the students that steps toward reform would be taken if they would leave the square. He promised them on TV that the govern ment will 'never stop listening to you ... never!' The students didn't buy it. Momentum increased as more and more people found the courage to stand up and join what looked like a successful, peaceful revolution — a real chance for social change. A contingent of well-known journalists, including some from Xinhua and the People's Daily, joined forces with the demonstrators. Li Peng and Zhao met with the hunger strikers. But then, right when it appeared that the Communist Party could very well lose its tight grasp on the country, the threats Deng had issued nearly three years before were acted upon. Martial law was declared in Beijing on May 20th in order to 'maintain social stability and the normal life of the people,' according to a Xinhua editorial. Li Peng appeared on television where he angrily rationalized the government action — a performance that may have reassured or persuaded some, but also alienated many Beijing citizens who previously had not openly taken sides. As significant as Li's televised speech was the absence of Zhao Ziyang from the media. Clearly, a shift in power from Zhao to Li was in the works.

Most of the students, as well as the foreign journalists, defied the dictates of martial law at first. Protestors stayed at the square and video coverage of the confrontation continued to pour out of China through satellite hookups, many of which had been arranged for coverage of Gorbachev's visit. Students formed motorcycle and bicycle troupes to speed around the city with the latest rumors and news. In a politically unfortunate act that was denounced by student leaders, a portrait of Mao Zedong that hangs on Tiananmen Gate was vandalized May 23rd. Sensing that the patience of the Chinese government was being pushed to the extreme, world leaders urged the Chinese government not to use violence to quell what so far had been a largely peaceful uprising.

Though the number of protestors in Tiananmen Square fluctuated during the last days of May, it was the students, not the government, who seemed to control the city. Li Peng appeared on television again on May 26th to announce that the People's Liberation Army, which was now mustering throughout Beijing, would soon have to intervene, 'with restraint.' He said the protests must stop and that the 'law' would be enforced. Zhao Ziyang had become even more conspicuous by his absence from public view, but students continued to hope that he was still somehow representing their interests behind the closed doors of the mysterious Chinese government. On May 29th, the Supreme People's Court also threatened 'severe punishment' for those 'causing disorder.' Despite the increasing presence of martial law troops in Beijing, and all the official threats, the protest spirit only heightened. The next day the students erected the the most inspiring and widely-recognized icon of the movement - the plaster and foam 'Goddess of Democracy' statue.

The Mass Media Battleground

Political posters, which are specifically banned by the Chinese constitution, began to appear again during the protests in 1986, signaling the beginning of the recent era of popular resistance. At the same time, the major mass media, especially television, were being used by the government to advocate its positions and to threaten punishment of 'wrongdoers.' Communications media of all types were the weapons of the intense ideological battle that led up to June 4th.

As we have already seen, the government does not completely control even the most mainstream media. Oppositional voices had seeped into China's mass media before the 1986 demonstrations, but especially during the months before martial law was declared many media outlets were busy developing their own agendas, influenced by thousands of young journalists, producers, and directors who refused to mindlessly articulate the party line. Though the government's voice has always ultimately ruled China's 'news' coverage, oppositional breakthroughs haven't been limited strictly to clever wording in an article here and there.

The most dramatic break from China's generally restrictive journalistic tradition, however, was the coverage that the student protestors got from the mass media in the spring of 1989. For several weeks leading up to the declaration of martial law, a previously unheard chorus of voices rang out on television news and in other media. Journalists continued to pay requisite attention to the official warnings and directives of government, but they also sought out and featured opposing accounts and opinions, despite a stern warning from conservative politburo members in late April that they should not recognize the students. Chinese journalists were enjoying their greatest freedom ever. Shocking images from Tiananmen Square suddenly appeared on national and regional television. Mark Hopkins describes what the people saw on CCTV:

The coverage increased sympathy and support for the movement. Students and other demonstrators learned how to play the domestic media, especially television, to their advantage. People began to realize that the encampment at Tiananmen Square was not just the annual plea for freedom and democracy that before had somehow always fizzled out. This was an ideological bombshell and a media event the likes of which had never been seen in China.

Discussions between students, Li Peng, and Zhao Ziyang (explored below) were telecast. State radio praised the students. Newspaper editorials questioned official positions. Military officers wrote a letter published by the People's Daily in mid May asking that martial law not be enacted. Support for the student movement within the ranks of working journalists crystallized when the Communist Party banned an issue of the World Economic Herald, a progressive newspaper in Shanghai, and fired its popular editor, Qin Benli, on April 25th. Within two weeks, more than 1,000 journalists petitioned the government to give the Chinese press more autonomy,, to permit coverage of a wider range of stories, including the student demonstrations, and to reinstate Qin.

Despite the advances they realized, the students never let up on the press freedom issue. Groups of protestors marched to the new CCTV building, the Central People's (radio) Broadcasting Station, Xinhua, Guangming Daily, and the People's Daily. To the tune 'Frère Jacques' they sang, 'Lying to the people, lying to the people, very strange, very strange.' A favorite rhyme emerged: 'People's Daily deceives the people; Guangming ("brightness") Daily is not bright; Beijing Daily talks nonsense; CCTV turns black into white!'

Channels of communication

Despite the increasing openness of Chinese mainstream media during the weeks that preceded martial law, the students had to develop forms of communication that they could control themselves. Posters began to appear at Beijing University in the middle of April and on the other campuses shortly thereafter. Political cartoons and graffiti were scrawled on every surface. Meetings were called. People spread information privately by word of mouth, a tradition Chinese call 'alley talk' (xiaodao xiaxi). A makeshift radio station, the 'Voice of Beijing University,' was set up in a dormitory room to broadcast political commentary, news, even revolutionary music at high volume on speakers set up across campus. Loudspeakers were placed at the front gate of the nearby People's University where political information was announced to students and passersby. Thousands of citizens, even entire families, gathered at night on the lawn in the front of the campus to listen to the broadcasts. Such a public address system became the major medium for the students at Tiananmen Square too. They set up microphones, amplifiers, and mixer boards, mounted loudspeakers on poles throughout the square, and turned up the volume to drown out the government's messages which also bellowed from loudspeakers scattered throughout public spaces in China, including the square. Old mimeograph machines and a Chinese character typewriter became the hardware for publication of the students' daily newsletters at Tiananmen Square. Public mail and telephones were used to coordinate activities from one city to another.

The government regularly used television, radio, newspapers, and loudspeakers to tell the demonstrators to quit and to ask the people not to support them. New big character posters (tatzepao) appeared throughout Beijing, imploring everyone to 'Maintain Order in the Capital,' 'Maintain Unity and Stability,' and 'Oppose Bourgeois Liberalization.' Helicopters flew over Tiananmen Square dropping leaflets which condemned disorder. In the last week of May, an additional propaganda committee was established to assert official positions even more vigorously.

The foreign alternative: Voice of America

The Voice of America says it is the 'number one' source of information for Chinese people from outside China, and my interviews in 1986 and 1989 confirm the claim. The VOA transmits nine hours of Chinese language news alone into China on shortwave radio channels per day. The BBC foreign service, which is also appreciated by the Chinese, broadcasts about three hours of news per day. VOA Director Richard Carlson told the Cable News Network (CNN) that between 60 and 100 million Chinese people listened to VOA every day during the crisis in 1989. Five Mandarin-language channels still beam into China 24 hours a day along with other channels in Cantonese and English. During martial law, when the Chinese government jammed several of the channels, the VOA responded by adding others. Foreign wire services are the main sources of VOA news, but during the turmoil in Beijing it added its own local reports. Carlson claims that the agency's intention is to provide 'fair, balanced, and honest' news coverage, though the organization has also been accused even by Americans of being mainly a propaganda organ for the United States.

Regardless of its image, intention, or actual performance, the VOA played an important role in the unrest in China especially after martial law reversed the trend toward a freer domestic press. VOA stories were recorded by Chinese listeners on their radio/audiotape recorders, then printed onto paper and tacked up on bulletin boards or retransmitted via the loudspeaker systems in an intertextual, mediated 'multi-step flow' fashion. VOA news was crucial to the students and other protestors in Beijing and helped spread information to the other cities who were following the lead from the capital city. Editorials appeared in Chinese newspapers and on CCTV to denounce the foreign 'intervention' of the VOA for 'spreading rumors that have fueled the counterrevolutionary movement.' The VOA, according to the Chinese government, was 'confusing the citizens.' The government's criticism of the VOA and the BBC only led many people to believe the reports even more confidently.

The premier meets the people

For the first time in the history of Chinese television, fiery debates between protestors and political officials took place in a special three-hour program aired during prime time on CCTV on April 29th. Government officials were grilled by students for failing to comply with their request to enter into real dialogue over the issues. Li Peng was chastized for not joining the discussions. As students and government representatives argued in front of the cameras, people all over China gathered around TV sets to watch this completely uncharacteristic media moment: a live, spontaneous, confrontative discussion between demanding, youthful students and a handful of apprehensive, noncommittal political officials. Despite the break-through onto CCTV's golden time, student activists weren't satisfied. They said the government representatives were not sufficiently responsive to them and that the program was 'meaningless.' They demanded a reprise, again on CCTV, live, and this time they wanted Li Pengo

It happened. After arriving late and being scolded in front of the cameras for his tardiness by Wuer Kaixi, president of the Beijing Autonomous Student Union, Li did indeed square off with the students on national television. Again, however, no tangible concessions were made though the students had the upper hand in the discussions. The participants ended up lecturing each other more than negotiating possible solutions. Li was not about to make any compromises. This incredible event in the history of Chinese politics — the premier of the country being talked down on national television by a group of unrelenting and insufficiently deferential students, innocent and charming as they were — would not be repeated. Deng and Li had seen enough. Martial law was declared the next day and Li appeared on television that very day — this time without his young sparring partners — to announce in no uncertain terms that 'resolute and powerful measures [will be used] to curb the turmoil,' an appearance that personalized the growing desperate authority of the Communist Party. The speech was repeated by CCTV and regional stations throughout the day. The 'freedom and democracy' movement abruptly had been rendered much less free and democratic.

The media under martial law

China's domestic media immediately suffered the effects of martial law. Opinions that had been expressed the weeks and months before were reduced to one. To insure compliance, the facilities of CCTV, Beijing Broadcasting, People's Daily, and Xinhua were occupied by soldiers. Journalists were assailed for having made 'serious mistakes' during the previous weeks in their news coverage. Students and other protestors, who had depended on domestic media for coverage before May 20th, now turned to the foreign press who had been less immediately affected by the ideological retrenchment. More and more protest signs and banners began to appear in English.

Officially, foreign journalists and broadcasters were restricted too. They were not to interview Chinese citizens and were prohibited from gathering news in Tiananmen Square and other sensitive areas. Until about June 1st, however, many foreign correspondents ignored the rules. Chinese citizens even intervened to protect American and Japanese journalists when they were harassed by police.

A major form of control that the Chinese government had over the foreign electronic news gathering services, however, was access to satellite channels which are used to beam television signals out of the country. After much confusion at first, the Chinese-leased INTELSAT channel, which had been subleased to the foreign news services, was taken away from the foreigners. Other transmission facilities were made available, subject to constant review. Later, no pictures were sent out. Pulling the plug on the satellite channels was itself a journalistic drama. Television viewers of Cable News Network (CNN) in many parts of the world watched live coverage of Chinese telecommunications authorities negotiate with the cable channel's Beijing producer over the legal right to withdraw access to the satellite. The Americans claimed that their contract to cover Gorba chev's visit to Beijing extended into June. The Chinese said Gorbachev was gone: 'Your work here is finished.' CBS News also lost its satellite channel despite the on-air legalistic pleadings of Dan Rather. The Chinese overruled all objections saying that the requirements of martial law, and the return to order that it presupposes, supersede all other arrangements.

Taking Tiananmen Square: The Television Program

The one question that I was asked repeatedly when I returned to China in fall 1989 was, 'Did you see any television coverage of PLA troops killing people at Tiananmen Square?' Students in particular wanted to know if I had information that they did not have. When I was first asked this question, my response was, 'Well, yes ... yes, certainly.' Upon reflection, however, I realized that I hadn't seen any actual footage of killing in the square. I remember a shot of the Goddess of Democracy being toppled by soldiers, but the most compelling evidence from the media that people had died in the square was mainly eyewitness accounts that were reported in publications such as Time and Newsweek. Still, my general impression was that hundreds, perhaps thousands of Chinese people, most of them students, were slaughtered by the military in Beijing. It was not clear in my mind exactly where it happened. Like everyone else, I had just assumed that most of the killing was in the square itself.

By the students' own count, I quickly learned that the number of deaths within their ranks is lower than is popularly believed outside China. According to them — and they are fiercely opposed to the government, they are not trying to belittle the tragedy — somewhere between 20 and 40 students died in the bloody confrontation the night of June 3rd and early morning, June 4th. The vast majority of people who died were civilians, estimated by Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times to be between 400 and 800, a number the students say is probably correct. Kristof and the Chinese authorities place the number of soldiers dead at between 12 and 16. In the final analysis, no reliable sources have indicated that the numbers are much greater than this.

But as one student insisted, 'It doesn't matter where people died or if the total number killed was one or ten thousand. The point is that our government turned its guns on its own people!' He's right. The governments, nonetheless, has waged an intensive propaganda campaign that is based on two fundamental themes that arise from the chaos of the first few days in June in order to justify the military action. It has tried to show that, beyond doubt, there was an uprising bordering on fullscale anarchy that was underway for many days in Beijing and that whatever violence the army had to use to restore order is understandable given the terrifying, out-of-control status of the protestors. Second, a version of the details of how Tiananmen Square itself was cleared by the military is featured. The basic theme of this second campaign is to convince the people that no one died within the square itself. The programs insist that the disturbances were caused by civilians, forcing the hand of the military, and that the taking of Tiananmen Square was done peacefully despite violent attacks that were made by some of the protestors.

The symbolic importance of Tiananmen Square is a paramount assump tion maintained throughout the programs. The thought that students were slaughtered in their frail formations and encampments at Tiananmen Square is indeed repulsive to all Chinese and is an image that the government could not permit to go unchallenged. Occupation of the square by the students symbolized two related, but fundamentally contradictory, themes from the government's perspective. It was, first of all, the site of a counterrevolutionary movement that seriously threatened national stability. But it was also the place where thousands of China's children were camped. The counterrevolutionary ideology had to be extinguished, but the children had to be spared. The Chinese television audience, which had been exposed for weeks to deeply sentimental images of youthful protestors transforming Tiananmen Square into makeshift homes, could not easily accept the most horrific scenario: that troops and tanks crushed defenseless children at the square. For the government, it is certainly better to admit that some killing took place on the streets as the military moved toward the square than to permit the alternative vision to fester in the public mind.

I have acquired videotape copies from CCTV of all propaganda programs produced since June 4th about the 'turmoil' (the government's preferred descriptor) in Beijing. These programs have all been shown many times on Chinese television. The programs are produced in Mandarin for the domestic audience of course, but some programs narrated in English have also been shown on Chinese television mainly as part of the government's attempt to keep foreign investors from fleeing the country. The programs are propaganda in raw form.² While they pretend to be journalistic, documentary-style reports of the turmoil, they do nothing but show the most selective video footage of confrontations between demonstrators and soldiers. With one exception, which I will take up at length below, they give no voice to the students or to others involved in the resistance movement. Using a detached, authoritative voice-over technique, the narration is a simplistic, completely one-sided story of what happened.

They are powerful. Even the most skeptical viewer of these programs would have to concede one fundamental point to the Chinese government: before unleashing its terrible violence, the military suffered loss of life in grotesque ways, endured tremendous material destruction, and tolerated great humiliation. Please don't misread my understandings or intentions here. Had I been a Chinese in Beijing, I would have been in the front ranks with the demonstrators. But what these television programs reveal in graphic form is that the government's official line — that the military at first acted with restraint and suffered great losses — is not a completely false claim.

The videos make it clear that there was in fact a serious rebellion underway in Beijing. With pictures of demonstrators flailing away at soldiers, the narrator claims that police and martial law troops simply tried to quell an uprising that was, at root, inspired by subversive elements inside and outside the country. What is not said, of course, is that the rebellion was greatly intensified by the very presence of the military. The editing and narration is framed in such a way as to completely hide the fact that it was a protest by unarmed people who were prompted to action by cumulative, intolerable economic and political circumstances. Furthermore, the story of the violence in the capital is reconstructed to appear as a chronological unfolding of events, but the editing clearly reveals that scenes are taken completely out of context, then spliced together in order to create an impression of continuity. And, of course, no alternative courses of action to the eventual violent solution were discussed.

Most of CCTV's propaganda programs contain footage of the physical conflict in Beijing city. They don't blame the students directly for what happened. Instead, the programs claim that military action had to be taken against 'ruffians, thugs, and hooligans' who had 'hoodwinked' innocent students. The narrator claims that Taiwanese spies and 'paramilitary terrorist organizations' infiltrated China, turning 'simple-minded, young students' into counterrevolutionaries who were then responsible for this

'sudden' turmoil. The counterrevolutionaries then further spread the poison: 'They have taken advantage of the grievances of the broad masses of people to disrupt social order in Beijing and cause confusion throughout China so as to overthrow the present government.'

Video footage that is shown to support the government's position is, indeed, impressive. We see shots of demonstrators throwing rocks at soldiers and vehicles, joyriding in a commandeered armored personnel carrier, pushing and shoving passive, scared soldiers, setting fire to literally hundreds of vehicles (one shot reveals a line of at least 30 or 40 abandoned vehicles all burning out of control along a city street), turning over other vehicles, impeding emergency vehicles, blocking traffic. Horrifying images are shown of the charred bodies of soldiers who had been trapped inside vehicles set ablaze by demonstrators. A dozen men jump up and down on top of a tank. Others wave weapons. A military vehicle that is moving rapidly in a convoy suddenly stalls and comes to a halt along the side of the road where dozens of protestors, who had been throwing rocks at the passing convoy, stood. The civilians run to the stalled military truck and smash the windows with stones. Although it is not completely clear in the televised pictures, the narrator claims that the driver was stoned to death by the crowd. In fact, it does look like that's what happened.

In all, the invisible but mightily present narrator lists the government's statistics of casualties and damage. He then explains, 'Among the non-military casualties were rioters who deserved the punishment, people who were injured by stray bullets, and people who were wounded by ruffians who had seized rifles.' He calmly adds, 'Is there any country in the world whose laws can bear this kind of freedom and democracy?'

Preserving the sanctity of the square

Another episode of the propaganda series is meant to do nothing more than assure the people that no one died in Tiananmen Square and that the clearing of the square was done humanely. This program features no gory graphics. It presents interviews with protestors who discuss at length what they say happened at Tiananmen Square the night of June 3rd and 4th. The primary interviewees are Hou Dejian, a famous singer in his mid thirties and a real Chinese patriot who defected to the mainland from Taiwan many years ago and was part of the student movement all along, including the hunger strike, and three others, all of whom are teachers in Beijing. These men say they were the main negotiators acting on behalf of the demonstrators who occupied Tiananmen Square to the very last minute, a claim that coincides with several journalistic accounts. Brief comments are also made during this program by a Chinese doctor who was at the square the last night and by three students from Qinghua University. Before I summarize what they say in the program, I will describe my understanding of the events that led up to the military's sweeping of the square as dawn broke on June 4th.³

Briefly, the story unfolds this way: military units moved toward Tiananmen Square both from the northeast along Jianguomenwai Avenue and from the northwest along Changan Avenue on June 3rd under orders to get everyone out of the square by dawn the next day. These two wide avenues meet at the northern entrance to Tiananmen Square, the very place that separates the square from Tiananmen Gate and the entrance to the Forbidden City. The people had erected barriers of destroyed vehicles and formed human chains to prevent the soldiers from breaking through to the square. It was along these two streets, and the side streets that branch off from them, that most of the violent confrontations took place. On my trip to Beijing in 1989 I saw homes tucked away in the alleys along these streets that are riddled with bullet holes. As the military grew more and more aggressive in its effort to get to the top of the square,

the people became equally determined to prevent that from happening. Now no longer willing to hold back, soldiers on both streets opened fire, sometimes randomly, sometimes not, into crowds, at buildings, into the air — everywhere. The worst story is of soldiers repeatedly cutting down scores of people as they stood in rows along Changan Avenue near the entrance to the square. It was a gruesome nightmare. In all, hundreds of people fell dead or injured. Hospitals were overrun with casualties. Fires broke out. The air was filled with the stench of smoke and teargas. Beijing — the heart and soul of the People's Republic of China — was under siege by the People's Liberation Army who were not to be denied their mission. The sounds and smells wafted into Tiananmen Square where a few thousand students and supporters held firm despite reports that hundreds of people were being killed on the streets nearby. A few minutes after midnight a military armed personnel carrier broke through the blockade at the top of the square and was poised to move toward the student encampment. It was clear that the military would attack anyone who refused to leave Tiananmen Square.

This is where the four interviewees come in. They claim that hasty negotiations took place between two of them and two others (doctors from the Chinese Red Cross who also represented the protestors), and a man identified as Lieutenant Ji from the People's Liberation Army whose unit had just broken through the barriers at the northern end of the square. The lead spokesman for the protestors was Hou Dejian. After pleading twice with Ji for more time to allow the remaining thousands in the square to leave peacefully, Hou and the three others returned to the students to explain that the military had promised not to fire on them if they would retreat from the square using the southeast corner — away from the military's position — as an exit. There were a hundred different opinions among the students about what to do. Wuer Kaixi, weakened to the point of exhaustion from the hunger strike, gave a speech saying 'I'm going to die in Tiananmen Square!' But he fainted before he could finish and was taken into a tent, and later away from the square. The interviewees claim that Wuer does not know what finally happened because he was not there at the end. Chai Ling, the tiny young woman who became so familiar to TV viewers in China and abroad because of her fiery presence during the protests, took the microphone and said, 'Students and civilians, if you want to retreat ... feel free to do so. If you want to stay, we welcome you.' Others argued for the importance of maintaining a peaceful protest and for not engaging the soldiers in combat under any circumstances. In the midst of the chaos — with tanks roaring into position, the sound of gunfire on the nearby streets, and government loudspeakers blaring away — in a fashion true to their cause, the students took a voice vote to determine if they should leave. Majority sentiment was to go. Two of the protest leaders retreated with the students out of the southeast corner. Two others stayed back to insure that everyone got out safely. Moving into the square to chase the students out, soldiers shot the protestors' loudspeakers off the sound posts and fired bullets randomly into the air as they chided the less willing, 'Do you want to leave or not?' Hou said he begged the soldiers to shoot even higher so as not to endanger lives. All four of the protest leaders claim that none of the retreating students was killed as they sadly filed out of Tiananmen Square, giving up their dream for the time being at least, in the face of certain death if they did not leave. Tearfully, some of them sang 'Internationale' as they walked. The protestors were gone from the square by 6.30 a.m.

This ending to the story differs sharply from many accounts we have read in the West where witnesses claim to have seen many deaths take place in the square itself — even claims that the army fired machine guns into the retreating line of students as they left the square. But the story told by the four men, corroborated by supplementary televised interviews with many others, is a reasonable and consistent one that has surely convinced many citizens that while something horrible happened in Beijing in June, apparently Tiananmen Square itself was not stained by Chinese blood.

The Aftermath

The government's version of the prelude and finale in Beijing was just part of the television coverup. Several themes emerged: the capture and punishment of 'guilty' parties; an assault on remnants of 'divisive' ideology; an attempt to unite the people behind the reconstructive work of the military; and the reemergence of China's political leaders, including the appointment of yet another chief of the Communist Party, Jiang Zemin.

All of China watched videoclips on CCTV's news of the arrests and sentencing of those who were blamed for the 'counterrevolutionary' activity. Two guilty types were shown: grim, disheveled, shameful men who are described as 'thugs' or 'hooligans,' and key figures from the Beijing Autonomous Student Union and other student groups. Within just two weeks after June 4th, more than 1,500 arrests were announced in what may be the biggest human purge ever presented on any nation's television. Peasantclass men with their heads bowed, placards dangling around their necks, were humiliatingly led into courts where most of them 'admitted' their 'crimes' and were sentenced to death as television news cameras captured their pathetic presence. Pictures of 21 student leaders were repeatedly shown on television; a telephone 'hotline' was set up to turn in the youthful demonstrators (prompting one young woman to turn in her brother, according to reports); the government kept the public informed of the running tally of student 'most wanteds' who had been apprehended. Ignoring world political opinion and the criticism of human rights agencies,

government authorities continued to publicly arrest and punish dissidents for nearly two years after the Beijing uprising.

A 'party purification' campaign was undertaken. All those suspected of sympathizing with the student movement were required to provide detailed explanations of their actions, day by day, for unaccountable time during the disruptive weeks. Cadre in workplaces throughout Beijing called meetings of their workers to discuss the lingering implications of the turmoil. Workers were required to give their opinions of the resistance movement. To endorse the ideology or actions of the protestors was tantamount to self-incrimination. Workers were informally required to support the government's perspective. To say nothing in these meetings was implicit criticism of the government and that also was not acceptable. As one bright young female media specialist told me in 1989, 'We not only don't have freedom of speech in China, we don't have freedom of silence either.' Interpersonal relationships suffered. The crackdown in Beijing had brought back the horror of the Cultural Revolution when people simply didn't know who they could trust to reveal their true feelings about anything political.

A crackdown on foreign media was made as copies of newspapers and magazines were removed even from hotels catering almost exclusively to foreigners. Several foreign reporters, including one from the VOA, were expelled from China for 'spreading rumors and distorting facts.' Fang Lizhi, who had escaped into the United States embassy during the fighting, was attacked by CCTV. The network read letters from the audience denouncing him as a traitor. And, in order to convince the people that the government will wage a battle against corruption despite the recent havoc, many cases of officials being tried and sentenced for various crimes were shown on television.

The post-June 4th propaganda sweep did not dwell solely on the negative, punitive side of things. Soldiers were shown on the news, and in the documentary programs, cleaning the square, distributing food, meeting with schoolchildren and workers, and generally restoring life in Beijing to normal. Families of slain soldiers were honored by the government. Military officers applauded each other during evaluation sessions. Citizens were shown giving presents (including flowers, bicycles, TV sets, and pigs) to the soldiers as thanks for ending the turmoil. A bank officer went on CCTV to try to dispell rampant financial fears. Classrooms were shown filled once again with eager students. Workers thanked the military for keeping their factories open. New political education programs were estab lished for college students, especially those at Beijing University where a new president was also named. The People's Republic of China's 40th Anniversary celebration - live on television from Tiananmen Square —went off as scheduled.

Re-establishing an image of political stability was very important. During the height of the protest, political control of China had seemed to be slipping away from the communists. The Chinese media equivocated about who was in power. First Li was in, then Zhao was making a comeback, then Li supposedly was back in control though Zhao, with the title of general secretary, was still technically in charge. Li had not been seen by the people since May 24th and Deng a week before that. Their disappearance from public view signalled to many people that the old guard had lost control of China. But when the smoke cleared at Tiananmen Square, which is located just a few blocks from China's government headquarters, the familiar array of leaders, minus Zhao Ziyang, was in public view again. But they didn't show up straightaway. Despite rumors that Deng had suffered a heart attack, that Li Peng had been shot in the thigh, that Zhao Ziyang could still be wielding some power, and that military units were set to battle with each other in a full-scale revolutionary war, none of China's leaders was seen or heard from until June 8th, when Li Peng, together with aged military officer Wang Zhen, appeared on CCTV. Deng returned to CCTV's airwaves the next day.

Their appearance on television absolutely marked the return to power of the hardline communist leaders. Both Li and Deng appeared in Mao jackets, rather than Western suits. Li had obviously not been shot and Deng was smiling. They each praised the military, reaffirmed the ideological inclinations of Chinese communism, called for security and stability,

encouraged prosecution of troublemakers, and promised that the reformation was still on track with 'openness and economic reform.' By June 14th, all but three of the 16 politburo members had appeared on television. Zhao was one of the missing. Three days later he was fired as chairman of the party and from all senior posts, a dismissal that was made into a news special from the Great Hall of the People just before the 7 o'clock news that night. Within a week Jiang Zemin, a politburo member from Shanghai who had been faithful to Deng during the ordeal (he was responsible for firing World Economic Herald editor Qin Benli and was extremely intolerant of the student activists), was given the job. Compatible in their perspectives, Jiang and Li stabilized prices of key commodities and were able to slow down the runaway inflation.⁴ Just as important was the subtextual message sent by reinstituting central economic planning — the re-establishment of the pervasive authority of the Communist Party and the forced dependency that it requires of the people.

The flow of information after June 4th

The crisis spawned and prompted the adaptation of a variety of communication channels from outside China that were intended specifically to spread the word inside the country of what had happened during the military crackdown. The VOA, of course, continued to broadcast news into China. Some VOA transmissions were even sent specifically to nearly 2,000 military satellite receiver installations in China, a strategy that was designed to reach potentially resistant military forces. The BBC continued to send reports into the country, as did Hong Kong radio and television stations.

For those who tried to inform Chinese people of the details of the military assault, the hope was that mediated accounts of the crackdown would be spread interpersonally through routine contact between and among family members, friends, co-workers, and classmates. Copies of foreign newspapers smuggled into China were posted in public places; others were copied and handed from person to person. Overseas Chinese phoned families and friends back home to tell them what they had seen on television. The telephone was used for another purpose: to jam hodines established by the government for turning in protestors — a tactic that also benefitted from the low quality of the Chinese telephone system.

High technology came into play. Fax machines were used by Chinese outside China to electronically transmit written and photographic accounts of the Beijing violence into the country, a practice that continued for several months after June 4th. International computer networks that link universities and other research institutions, including some inside China, were full of messages that described the crackdown. The Silicon Valley in California, near my home, was a center for much of this high-tech activity as more than 20,000 Asian engineers and professionals, many of them Chinese, live in the area. Weather balloons loaded with propaganda from Taiwan were sent across the Formosa Strait.

Chinese students and their supporters throughout the world staged mass ive demonstrations to emphatically register their shock and contempt. International news agencies ate up the story. The Goddess of Democracy was symbolically resurrected in several places. Rock concerts and rallies were held from Hong Kong to Paris to New York. Foreigners who came to China after June 4th, including many businessmen, told their stories.

Television in international political communication

World response to what happened in Beijing has been a continuing controversy. As was later learned, American President George Bush had dispatched secret political envoys to China several times after June 4th. But during and in the immediate aftermath of the crisis, Bush said he had no direct communication with his old friend, Deng Xiaoping, or other government officials in Beijing. According to Bush, he couldn't get through to Deng by telephone! Instead, he relied on the reports coming from television, especially CNN, whose very content and tone seem to have provided at least one fundamental basis from which the United States formulated its political response.

Chinese TV was seen outside its borders too. For weeks following the crackdown, foreign television newscasts regularly featured video segments from CCTV that showed the trials and sentencing of dissidents. CCTV's images were intercepted from its satellite television transmissions. Not to be outdone, CCTV managed to borrow pictures from American and Hong Kong TV and used them in the production of its own propaganda programs. The famous picture of the lone man standing in front of the row of tanks, which appears prominently in the CCTV programs (for reasons I explain in the next chapter), is one of the captured images. To forestall this activity, American networks now transmit signals from China in a way that makes it difficult to steal their pictures. And, in order to protect Chinese students and other sympathizers of the resistance movement, the faces and voices of Chinese who are interviewed on television in the United States are distorted because American television programs are also being videotaped and analyzed by Chinese authorities.

Visions of China

As the 'counterrevolutionary' activity increased, China's elder leaders finally retreated from any participation in the democratic ideological forum that was evolving in their country and called upon the last bastion of influence — the military. With economic, political, and cultural practices and policies running out of control, it was decided that military and ideological force must be strongly imposed. In the wake of the violent crackdown, the Chinese television audience, already weary of uninteresting domestic programs and the paternalistic, pedagogical tone of the government's news and information, was now a target to be intimidated by the medium. Deng Xiaoping and Li Peng, on TV scolding and threatening the 'bad elements' in China while at the same time promising a bright and prosperous future for the country, became mediated caricatures of themselves who would never have the confidence of many people again.

Television had made transparent to alert viewers how unstable the government really is. Before martial law, indelible images of a democratic alternative were transmitted to the massive audience in the journalistic coverage that was blossoming. Television viewers throughout the country could also see that while popular support for the resistance movement was increasing, the government's ability to control or settle the situation peacefully was decreasing. Until the post-mortem propaganda programs appeared, TV had made it clear that in a system based on absolute political control, no one seemed to be in control.

China's leaders must have believed after June 4th that at least the nation's peasants and ordinary workers would respond correctly to the propaganda and support the party. The main propaganda themes — that the government was forced to act militarily and that no one died at Tiananmen Square — were repeated endlessly. It is very difficult for anyone to determine the effect of the propaganda. In fact, there is something to be said about the power of the repeated message. One 21-year-old university student who had taken part in the Tiananmen Square protest told me that his parents, peasants from a province near Beijing, basically believed the government's story and that he too began to question his feelings about what he knew had happened in June after watching the propaganda programs several times in his parents' home during the summer. But the propaganda certainly has also had the opposite effect, serving to further unify and reinforce rather than reduce the commitment held by many people to democratic change. Television also made it inevitable that world public opinion about China would be set back beyond the dark days of the Cultural Revolution. Through it all, mistreating his people like an old father who had failed to realize that his children have already grown up, Deng seemed completely out of touch with where China was going without him, and what long-term effects his military and ideological strikes would bring.