Tiananmen's Disappearing Tank man
- Text by Alex Robert Ross
It was a simple, powerful image. As chaos raged all around during the Tiananmen Square protests on June 4, 1989, one man stood in front of a line of tanks brought in to quash the unrest. As the military moved in, the unnamed man in a white shirt held his bags of shopping and blocked might of the military momentarily.
The image was immediately disseminated around the world the next day, its composition so perfect as to appear almost unreal. Since then, it has almost taken on the ubiquity of recycled, reproduced images of Che Guevara; a basic pop cultural signpost of revolutionary sentiment.
But in China, like the memory of the protests themselves, the image is practically unknown. A feature in The New York Times recently drew together the four primary photographers that day, each with their own angle on the image. Charlie Cole, Stuart Frankli and Arthur Tsang Hin Wa all captured the moment. The image that’s been burned into Western minds, though, is the one that Jeff Widener captured for The Associated Press.
His was a close shot, emphasising the might of the military with four tanks stopped perfectly in their tracks, a streetlight emphasising the supposed civilisation that the square intended to cultivate.
Censorship in China is, of course, a difficult and convoluted issue. Amnesty International is just one of the many international groups pressuring China to release those imprisoned on that day and to release figures on the death toll that few can accurately pinpoint. Somewhere between the hundreds and the thousands is the best that many can do.
One certainty, though, is that the Tinananmen Square protests have been stricken from the record to the best of the Chinese government’s ability. With last week marking the 26th anniversary of the events, the party line was broken ever so slightly, though. This weekend, the English edition of the Global Times – one of the Communist Party’s official mouthpieces – quoted a Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesperson’s response to international calls to lift censorship restrictions: “Keeping quiet in public places about the 1989 turmoil has been accepted by the public as a political strategy to maintain social unity.”
One simple representation that captures this whitewashing stems from an experiment by Brooklyn-based artist Michael Mandiberg who, in 2009, decided to test the limits of cultural censorship from afar. He wrote to a collection of reproduction painters in Shenzhen’s Dafen Painting Village, asking them to reproduce Widener’s photograph.
The responses that Mandiberg received varied from the robotic to the remarkable. Some chose not to respond, some simply directed him to a payment site. “I was surprised by how transactional the whole thing was. The most common answer included some version of ‘Thank you for doing business with us,’ Mandiberg told us.
“Though I was curious about the unknowable absences… the painting studio that removed Tank Man, or the one that removed the man and the street lamp. Or the studios that never responded.”
Those absences are particularly jarring. Without the man at the front of the shot, Widener’s photograph is simply transformed into a celebration of military might, a standard Cultural Revolution-style propaganda piece. It’s particularly disconcerting when we consider that the man in the white shirt’s identity, whereabouts and welfare are still unknown.
And Mandiberg’s interest extended further than that: “One of my reflections a decade later is how all of them look like Thomas Kinkade paintings.” Kinkade – the McDonald’s of painters – was and still is one of the most commercially successful in the world, reflecting an idyllic, saccharine image of perfection in the American Dream. “These paintings end up reflecting many layers of cultural exchange.”
After artist Guo Jian’s struggles with Chinese authorities and eventual exile last year, this idea of a cultural conversation around protest movements remains essential, both in China and at home. Whether or not change occurs, reproduction will always play a key role in the 21st Century.
You might like
On the set of ‘La Bamba’, lost Latino legend Ritchie Valens’s biopic
The overnight rockstar — The Chicano rock & roll star exploded overnight in the late ’50s, but just as quickly he was gone, killed in a plane crash along with Buddy Holly. An ’80s biopic saw him immortalised on the big screen, which photographer Merrick Morton captured behind the scenes.
Written by: Miss Rosen
Louis Theroux’s ‘Manosphere’ shows men aren’t the problem, platforms are
No Ws for Good Men — The journalist’s new documentary sees him dive headfirst into the toxicities and machinations of the male influencer economy. But when young creators are monetarily incentivised to make more and more outrageous content, who really is to blame?
Written by: Emma Garland
In the 1960s, African photographers recaptured their own image
Ideas of Africa — An exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art explores the 20th century’s most important lensers, including Seydou Keïta, Malick Sidibé and Kwame Brathwaite, and their impact on challenging dominant European narratives.
Written by: Miss Rosen
Reynaldo Rivera’s intimate portrait of queer Latino love
Propiedad Privada — Growing up during the AIDS pandemic, the photographer entered a world where his love was not only taboo, but dangerous. His new monograph presents inward-looking shots made over four decades, which reclaim the power of desire.
Written by: Miss Rosen
In photos: The newsagents keeping print alive
Save the stands — With Huck 83 hitting shelves around the world, we met a few people who continue to stock print magazines, defying an enduringly tough climate for physical media and the high street.
Written by: Ella Glossop
Inside Bombay Beach, California’s ‘Rotting Riviera’
Man-made decay — The Salton Sea was created by accident after a failed attempt to divert the Colorado River in the early 20th century. Jack Burke reports from its post-apocalyptic shores, where DIY art and ecological collapse meet.
Written by: Jack Burke
