Thirty-five years ago, on June 4, 1989, Beijing’s Tiananmen Square became the site of a state-sanctioned massacre. What began as a peaceful student-led movement calling for democracy, transparency, and basic freedoms ended in bloodshed under the treads of Chinese tanks and the gunfire of the People’s Liberation Army.
For weeks, tens of thousands of Chinese citizens occupied the square, holding banners, singing songs, and staging hunger strikes. The mood was hopeful, the demands clear: an end to corruption, reform of the Communist system, and basic human rights. But the Chinese Communist Party saw this as a threat to its absolute control. On the night of June 3rd into the morning of June 4th, the order was given.
Tanks rolled through Beijing. Soldiers fired live ammunition into crowds. Protesters, medics, and bystanders were shot, beaten, and crushed. Journalists documented the chaos, but many images never saw the light of day inside China. The CCP immediately imposed a media blackout and arrested those involved. Independent estimates place the death toll between several hundred and several thousand, but the true number remains hidden buried by a regime that has rewritten history with silence.
The most haunting symbol of that night remains the anonymous “Tank Man,” who stood alone in defiance, blocking a column of tanks. His act of resistance was broadcast worldwide, but his fate is unknown likely detained or executed.
In the years since, the Chinese government has erased all public memory of the massacre. Schoolbooks omit it. Internet searches are blocked. Memorials are banned. Even speaking about June 4th can lead to arrest. Families of the dead like the Tiananmen Mothers still demand truth, but are met with intimidation and surveillance.
To remember Tiananmen is to resist this enforced amnesia. It is to acknowledge the human cost of authoritarianism. It is to honor those who died believing China could be freer and more just.
The world must not forget what happened in Tiananmen Square. The blood on that ground has not dried. The wound it opened still festers under censorship and fear. Until the truth is recognized and justice done, remembrance remains an act of defiance.
