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Beijing, June 5, 1989, sunny morning but it is not a good day. Not at all. Hu Yaobang died a few months ago, a party official much loved for being a just man, a committed communist, a valuable contributor to the country's economic recovery, opposed to censorship and a staunch supporter of student protests. For Hu, the students were patriots and had every right to expose the regime's mistakes in exchange for a democratic China. For Deng Xiaoping, the Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party, he was likely considered an element to be sidelined as he was against his style of politics. Unsurprisingly, Hu was dismissed in 1987 for rather questionable reasons, and this episode contributed to undermining Deng's authority. Deng's unwillingness to rehabilitate Hu Yaobang became the pretext to activate a detonator.
Propaganda press could only fuel resentment, accusing students of plotting against the state (typical, I would say) leading to noisy student demonstrations, hunger strikes, and uprisings. Not even Gorbachev's reconciliation visit on May 13 managed to stop the now unstoppable wave of protests and occupations. And it is then that Deng Xiaoping decided to wash away the counterrevolutionary stain with blood. On the night of June 3, the infantry of the Chinese army advanced from the outskirts, using firepower to counter every attempt at opposition. The clashes with over 100,000 students and workers were extremely violent. Two days later came the order to let the tank tracks screech on the eerie blood-stained asphalt of Tiananmen Square.
Jeff Widener, a photographer for the Associated Press, is on the sixth floor of the Jianguo Hotel, half-influenza affected, in a doze with an ice pack on his forehead. The previous night he was involved in a clash with the police while taking photos of a dead soldier in a burning armored vehicle. Unaware of being on an unnoticed trajectory, he was hit by a brick thrown by a protester. A mild concussion fortunately cushioned by the flash support of his camera. Visiting the AP offices, at least to change his "underwears," he reads a notice from the agency expressing a desire for the impossible: no photographer at risk on the street, but some comprehensive photos of the event are welcome. Widener manages to barter his Nikon FE2 (post-operation, to be clear) for entry into the hotel, about 800 meters away from the risk area but strategically impeccable, thanks to an American student present, named either Kirk or Kurt.
His head throbs and his eyelids struggle to open when he hears the clattering of tanks in the distance. He rushes to the window, and Kirk or Kurt follows with the only available film rolls. They are detrimental Fuji 100 ASA, while he is accustomed to shooting with at least 800 ASA. The framing is evocative, a pity about the distance but... a young man in a white shirt with plastic bags in hand appears out of nowhere. Widener gets irritated and exclaims vehemently to Kirkurt: "Damn! That boy is ruining my composition!". Kirkurt corrects him sadly: "They're going to kill him!". At that point, the photographer attempts to capture the artistic shot, waiting to seize the moment when the fearless rebel would be hit. A bit macabre, oh well! The distance is too great and a supplemental module is needed. He picks up a TC-301 teleconverter, mounts it on the lens, and starts shooting.
No! You won't pass. It's no use moving, damn it! I said you won't pass! Again! I SAID YOU WON'T PASS!
And then when least expected, the miracle happens. The power of two defenseless, furious, naïve almond-shaped eyes filters through the slit of an armored beast to pierce the heart of a duty-bound tanker driver. The tank, after several attempts, stops. Disarmed. The boy climbs the turret and shouts at the soldier: "Get out of here! Why are you killing my people? Back off!"
In the end, after days of clashes, the estimate of casualties is uncertain. From hundreds to thousands among students and soldiers. Yet the tanks have stopped.
The unknown rebel was perhaps a 19-year-old student named Wang Lian Xi. Assuming it was him, some say he was arrested by the police two weeks later to be executed, while others claimed that after 18 years of imprisonment, he was released but remains interned in a psychiatric hospital. There is also, and this is the most credible hypothesis, the belief that he is alive, well, and married in Taiwan, under the alias Wang Weilin.
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