(picture from Mingpao)
I was at Victoria Park last night with a crowd of 150,000 strong to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square crackdown. The candlelight memorial started at 8p and I arrived about that time. As I headed to the park from Sogo, people were spilling out of the subway exit, to be greeted by Long Hair, a celebrity HK legislator if there was one who consistently calls for greater democracy, amongst other things. He was perched on a ladder and served as kind of the warm up act for those going to Victoria Park, which was about everyone. A little ways down there was another member of Legco I believe and a few banners, and people, stretched out on the street.
Traffic on the road bisecting the shopping area and the park was closed off and from there, I pretty much got sucked into the crowd. The soccer fields and basketball courts were already packed and closed off but it was impossible to rush the crowd and make it to the other field, which was also full. It was difficult to stop off to the side because there wasn't much room and you couldn't see anything, so a number of us were basically swept around the park by the momentum of thousands of people in front and behind. It was pretty warm if you were caught in the middle and for a few seconds I thought this could turn into a disaster, especially when I saw little kids pressed up against everyone else's bums and tums.
But I was glad to see children there, whole families actually. I heard parents telling their children who weren't even old enough to remember SARS about what happened 20 years ago and why it was important that they remember this event. I also saw grandparents who were old enough to remember the Japanese invasion of Hong Kong trying to make their way to the fields with teenage grandchildren in tow. There were middle aged couples without children, packs of teenagers, twentysomethings who were still eating their dinner, retirees who brought their own electric candles. I've never seen anything like it, and that seemed to be the sentiment shared by others. I overheard a person who I took for a businessman telling someone on the phone that it was more people than he'd expected, more than he'd seen before, more than any previous year he'd come. Along the route, organizers kept rallying us to take out our phones and to call and text all our friends and family. "Tell them to come out, tell them to be a part of this. Do they remember June 4? If they do, they must come here." And people actually did this. People weren't just on the phone relaying how big the crowds were, they were also encouraging others to join in.
But I was glad to see children there, whole families actually. I heard parents telling their children who weren't even old enough to remember SARS about what happened 20 years ago and why it was important that they remember this event. I also saw grandparents who were old enough to remember the Japanese invasion of Hong Kong trying to make their way to the fields with teenage grandchildren in tow. There were middle aged couples without children, packs of teenagers, twentysomethings who were still eating their dinner, retirees who brought their own electric candles. I've never seen anything like it, and that seemed to be the sentiment shared by others. I overheard a person who I took for a businessman telling someone on the phone that it was more people than he'd expected, more than he'd seen before, more than any previous year he'd come. Along the route, organizers kept rallying us to take out our phones and to call and text all our friends and family. "Tell them to come out, tell them to be a part of this. Do they remember June 4? If they do, they must come here." And people actually did this. People weren't just on the phone relaying how big the crowds were, they were also encouraging others to join in.
I never actually saw the speakers and couldn't really hear much of anything - except when they announced that attendance peaked 150,000. The lady next to me told her husband, "Just watch. Tomorrow the government is going to cut that number in half." And true to form, police estimates for this and last weekend's rally were lower than that of the organizers'. Who knows how many people were actually there, but it was damn crowded and the numbers matter less than the significance of such an overwhelming turnout. Whatever the motivation for each person last night, it's clear that Hong Kong still feels the injustice of Tiananmen Square.
Afterwards, I had an interesting conversation with a Mainlander who also attended and who sat near the front. I was taken with her sincerity at trying to find out more information. She revealed many things I already knew from teaching in China - that young people are told nothing about Tiananmen, that they know vaguely of an event but have no particulars, that even if they want to discuss among friends they are afraid, that the Chinese government has successfully helped a generation forget the protests, that they've ensured the youth don't care, that with time the country can collectively claim a crackdown never happened.
It was the topic of the actual death count though that was most revealing. I mentioned that so many numbers have been thrown up that it's hard for me to know which one is the most accurate. Even if the highest numbers are exaggerated, certainly the lowest numbers - less than 10 - are just as off base, at which point she went wide eyed and I thought her jaw was going to drop. "More than 10?!" she said. "No, I never thought more than 10." She wasn't trying to argue or disagree with me; she was just shocked that of my certainty that the death toll exceeded a handful of students. But what most intrigued me was her reasoning - she just couldn't comprehend the fact that her government could turn the military on its own people. I could be snarky here, mock her naivete, and let loose on how America has a fine record of using and abusing its own citizens (see black American history), but her comment I think really hits at an underlying sadness and the importance of this whole event, not just this particular commemoration in Hong Kong but also the Chinese government's (non)reaction, its disappearance from the Chinese memory. It is both my friend's disbelief in and at her own country and that she was able to suspend her skepticism for so long that is ultimately so troubling. She has seen video and pictures now; you can't really escape that here in Hong Kong. But by her own account, she hasn't been able to square the evidence with such longheld trust in her government. And it made me think a bit about what it would be like to have that trust taken away, to be filled instead with betrayal. I guess as an American and an Asian American, I've honed by skepticism, but it's something to consider when we ask the Chinese people to examine what transpired 20 years ago. We are telling them not just to take a stand with the students but to radically change the way they view their government. That said, it should still be done. A last point is that whenever I meet new people in China, especially students, they are always quick to remind me of their country's 5000 year history. Impressive indeed, but not so much when you can't remember what happened 20 years ago.
Afterwards, I had an interesting conversation with a Mainlander who also attended and who sat near the front. I was taken with her sincerity at trying to find out more information. She revealed many things I already knew from teaching in China - that young people are told nothing about Tiananmen, that they know vaguely of an event but have no particulars, that even if they want to discuss among friends they are afraid, that the Chinese government has successfully helped a generation forget the protests, that they've ensured the youth don't care, that with time the country can collectively claim a crackdown never happened.
It was the topic of the actual death count though that was most revealing. I mentioned that so many numbers have been thrown up that it's hard for me to know which one is the most accurate. Even if the highest numbers are exaggerated, certainly the lowest numbers - less than 10 - are just as off base, at which point she went wide eyed and I thought her jaw was going to drop. "More than 10?!" she said. "No, I never thought more than 10." She wasn't trying to argue or disagree with me; she was just shocked that of my certainty that the death toll exceeded a handful of students. But what most intrigued me was her reasoning - she just couldn't comprehend the fact that her government could turn the military on its own people. I could be snarky here, mock her naivete, and let loose on how America has a fine record of using and abusing its own citizens (see black American history), but her comment I think really hits at an underlying sadness and the importance of this whole event, not just this particular commemoration in Hong Kong but also the Chinese government's (non)reaction, its disappearance from the Chinese memory. It is both my friend's disbelief in and at her own country and that she was able to suspend her skepticism for so long that is ultimately so troubling. She has seen video and pictures now; you can't really escape that here in Hong Kong. But by her own account, she hasn't been able to square the evidence with such longheld trust in her government. And it made me think a bit about what it would be like to have that trust taken away, to be filled instead with betrayal. I guess as an American and an Asian American, I've honed by skepticism, but it's something to consider when we ask the Chinese people to examine what transpired 20 years ago. We are telling them not just to take a stand with the students but to radically change the way they view their government. That said, it should still be done. A last point is that whenever I meet new people in China, especially students, they are always quick to remind me of their country's 5000 year history. Impressive indeed, but not so much when you can't remember what happened 20 years ago.
