2014年6月1日 星期日

「六四」是怎樣一回事? 天安門屠殺後的敵友與成敗人物 Elite in China Partly Molded By Tiananmen

 

 

「六四」是怎樣一回事? 【字幕版】
今年是六四天安門事件第25週年,這個中國史上最悲壯的學生運動,香港教育專業人士協會,特別將六四事件拍成紀錄片,十分多鐘的畫面,帶您回顧這段歷史。

這段影片的名稱就叫「六四」是怎樣一回事?內容提到,當初事件的開始,是前中共總書記胡耀邦逝世後,學生們開始透過發起集會、自辦遊行等方式,表達對政府的不滿,學生聲音受到人民重視,發起遊行及絕食活動,一直到當時的國務院總理李鵬願意跟吾爾開希等人對話,但是這場對話在沒有共識的情況下結束。

1989 年5月19日,李鵬宣布要強硬對付動亂,引起學生更大反彈,20萬人同時絕食,隔日北京宣布戒嚴,5月23日,北京發起百萬人大遊行,陣容是史上最大。 1989年6月4日清晨,軍隊進入北京市區,將擋住去路的北京市民,用槍射殺或是用坦克輾斃,最後坦克開進天安門廣場,學生被迫撤走,這場行動造成數以千 計的市民及學生被射殺,成了中國現代史上最黑暗的一天。

這起事件,造成了民運人士流亡海外,中國為了平息人民的憤怒,積極發展經濟,使得人民貧富差距越來越大。網友看了這段影片了解到「六四天安門事件」,紛紛留言,說這是「不能忘記的事」、「1989年時中國人曾經很勇敢過」。(陳詩璧/綜合報導)

 

從廣場上到紅牆內:那些躋身政治局的六四親歷者

1989年4月在天安門廣場,學生抗議者面對軍警,哀悼前共產黨領導人中的自由派胡耀邦的去世。
Agence France-Presse
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北京——連續四天,400多位中國最傑出的富有政治才智的人聚集在北京一家賓館煙霧繚繞的會議廳里,焦慮地辯論着國家的未來。
那是1989年4月,中國在進行經濟改革十年後,開始面臨 政治自由化的呼聲。幾天以後,天安門廣場爆發了抗議活動,與會者的人生從此走上了截然不同的道路。其中有幾位成了今天的國家領導人,比如中國總理李克強; 另一些則因被指控支持抗議活動而身陷囹圄或者流亡國外。天安門抗議震動了共產黨,最終以6月4日士兵大舉進入北京、開槍打死了幾百名赤手空拳的抗議者和旁 觀者而告終。
  • 檢視大圖 現任高層中參加過1989年倡導開放精神和政治改革的政治局會議的人士。李克強,現任總理。
    Sean Gallup/Getty Images
    現任高層中參加過1989年倡導開放精神和政治改革的政治局會議的人士。李克強,現任總理。
  • 檢視大圖 副主席李源潮。
    Feng Li/Getty Images
    副主席李源潮。
  • 檢視大圖 王岐山,反腐調查總負責人。
    Vincent Yu/Associated Press
    王岐山,反腐調查總負責人。
  • 檢視大圖 俞正聲,主管宗教,少數民族和非黨團體工作。
    Lintao Zhang/Getty Images
    俞正聲,主管宗教,少數民族和非黨團體工作。

曾幫助組織那次會議的陳一諮說,「會議的氣氛是要百花齊放,百家爭鳴。後來,不可能再召開像那次那樣每個人都願意直抒己見的會議了。」
今年是六四流血事件的24周年,也是共產黨新領導層上任後 的第一個周年,新領導層中有不少與1989年事件有密切且矛盾關係的官員。很多如今的高層領導在20世紀80年代還處於他們政治生涯的初期,那個時代,允 許什麼、禁止什麼的邊界沒有今天這樣涇渭分明,也沒有被如此嚴格地控制。他們當年的職業和友誼,以及他們有時的觀念與那些在六四之後入獄或被罷免的學者、 官員和政治顧問們的有些重疊。
幾乎沒人認為去年11月上台的新一屆中國領導人會推翻官方對六四事件的定性:一場必須鎮壓的反革命暴亂。但是,他們曾陷入當年那次政治試驗的經歷提出這樣一個問題:與其前任相比,如今的領導人是否會對新的想法和討論持更開放的態度。
雖然中國領導人公開辯論經濟改革的不同方法,但是他們對政治改革的呼聲越來越難以聽到。至少在現在看來,任何對20世紀80年代更自由精神的潛在接受,都被晉陞到了高層的那些人所必需的因循守舊所禁錮,這些人害怕自己被懷疑是意識形態異端。
然而,六四事件的教訓以及其壓抑的後果對新領導人來說也許是負擔,如果他們面臨另一次政治反抗則尤為如此,曾擔任趙紫陽助手的吳偉說,趙紫陽是致力改革黨的領導人,在鎮壓發生前不久被罷免。
吳偉說,「對現在的當權者來說,這依然是個沉重的政治包袱,即便他們還不能對此進行公開討論。經歷過那次事件的人現在正值中年或者稍老一點,這依然是他們心頭的一個結。」
據曾參加會議的原新華社編輯仲大偉稱,現任政治局常委的25位委員中有六人曾參加那次會議,今年57歲的李克強總理是其中之一。其他與會者包括國家副主席李源潮,中紀委書記王岐山,以及負責有關宗教、少數民族以及黨外組織政策的俞正聲。
這些後來成為中國領導的人中有不少是在20世紀70年代末 湧進大學的,他們渴求知識和自由思想,在之前的10年文革期間,人們只能死記硬背毛澤東思想,大學由於意識形態運動大部分處於關閉或者停頓狀態。在當時的 照片上,他們都穿着藍色或者綠色棉外套,提醒着人們那是他們曾希望逃脫的單調遵從。
在天安門動亂的整個過程中,現任國家主席兼黨總書記的習近 平在東南部的福建省任地方官員,遠離北京的抗議活動。但他的父親習仲勛是支持經濟改革的共產黨元老,也是胡耀邦的朋友。曾任黨的領導人的胡耀邦因其自由傾 向於1987年被罷免,他的突然死亡,使得上千名學生前往天安門廣場表達自己的哀傷,也發出邁向民主的要求。
澳大利亞莫納什大學(Monash University)中國共產黨歷史學家孫萬國(Warren Sun)稱,有些跡象顯示,習仲勛曾間接地表達過他對軍事戒嚴的反對,但在六四之後很快站好了隊。
六四事件發生前,中國在最高領導人鄧小平的帶領下,拋棄了毛澤東時代的意識形態狂熱,開始進行市場改革,允許農民、工廠主以及商人擺脫國家的約束。伴隨經濟改革的是新思想的醞釀、以及對政治開放和文化創新的呼聲,但也遭到黨內保守派領導的一場針對「精神污染」的反擊行動。
北京作家陳子明說,「我們當時都認同的是中國必須進行改革,迫切需要如此。學生和學者之間唯一的真正分歧在於,經濟改革和政治改革哪個應該最先進行,或者是同時進行。」
當前中國的很多領導人在那種如火如荼的氣氛中開始攀登政治 階梯,在當時,官員與一些倡導更激進變革的人打交道、甚至對他們表示同情並不罕見。學生時代的李克強曾與胡平和王軍濤有過交往,後二者是積極投身於 1980年不受拘束的學生競選的激進分子。朋友稱,有時李克強會參加學校的沙龍,學生們在那裡辯論選舉政治、西方思想以及威權統治的暴行,直到深夜。
朋友稱,那以後,李克強被黨內官員勸說放棄了出國留學機會,當了共青團的一名幹部。
王軍濤說,「當時我們有很多相同的看法。很多讓我們發生分歧的問題那時還沒有出現。」 王軍濤在六四事件後被關押,在1994年去了美國。
其他未來的領導人也有類似的背景。現任中紀委書記的王岐山曾在20世紀80年代與其他年輕學者一起提倡改革死板的計劃經濟,他們被譽為「改革四君子」。在那個十年的後期,他擔任《走向未來叢書》的編委成員,該系列叢書很受學生喜歡。
陳一諮曾是主辦那次會議的政府機構主任,他回憶說曾與王岐山多次長談,也在1988年與李克強有過一次長時間的對話。在提到中國最近退休的一批領導時,他說,「我的印象是,這一代應該比胡錦濤、溫家寶那一代人要更開明。」
到了1989年,分歧導致了共產黨領導層內部的分裂。儘管已出現十年經濟增長,學生和學者卻因為官員腐敗和共產黨不願效仿席捲前蘇聯陣營的政治改革而不滿。更多公眾也因官員特權、以及物價改革帶來的通脹而十分憤怒。
這些矛盾在胡耀邦死後爆發了,當時在天安門廣場上的悼念活動升級為爭取通過向民主邁進以及言論自由來限制權力和黨精英階層特權的訴求。
趙紫陽以及黨內高層其他相對溫和派人士提倡用慎重的政治自由化和新聞自由來平息不滿。但強硬派則認為自由化會帶來危害,不能解決問題。他們得到了鄧小平的支持,鄧小平一直熱衷於經濟改革,而不是政治改革。
民主倡導人士王軍濤回憶了自己與前大學校友李克強在 1989年5月中旬的最後一次見面,他說,「在學生時代,(李克強)經常直抒己見。現在他已經不像過去那樣愛衝動。他變成和其他官員一樣的人,對領導唯命 是從,但我覺得他仍有正義感。」那次見面時,李克強與一群領導一起勸說學生停止絕食,回到教室中去。
等到5月20號政府宣布在北京進行軍事戒嚴時,趙紫陽已經失去了權力,鄧小平和黨內保守派正在準備對聚集在天安門廣場的學生進行更嚴厲的鎮壓。兩周之後,攜槍的士兵和坦克輾過天安門廣場,中國又經歷了一場清洗和關押的震撼。
據曾經相識的人稱,為了度過這次逆轉,李克強和共青團的其他官員靠無情的實用主義打消了人們認為他們對黨不忠的懷疑。他們參加各種會議,譴責天安門抗議是反革命行為。王軍濤說,「在黨內生存,你必須成為一個機會主義者。」
6月4日的鎮壓發生之後不久,習近平的妻子、軍樂團歌手彭麗媛曾與其他表演者一起在天安門廣場慰問軍隊。一家人民解放軍雜誌1989年發表過她演出的照片,照片曾在今年在中國互聯網上短暫流傳,後來消失了,可見政府對那段歷史仍然很敏感。
曾為官員的吳偉說,「黨的體制會改變人。一旦你走上了這條路,你就學會了一條:如要保護自己,就必須保護這個體制。但是我不相信那個時代沒有給他們留下了印記。」
傑安迪(Andrew Jacobs)自北京,儲百亮(Chris Buckley)自香港報道。
翻譯:張亮亮



Elite in China Partly Molded By Tiananmen

BEIJING — For four days, more than 400 of China’s brightest political minds gathered in smoke-clouded halls at a Beijing hotel, vigorously debating the nation’s future.
It was April 1989, and after a decade of economic transformation, China faced a clamor for political liberalization. Days later, protests erupted in Tiananmen Square, and the lives of those at the meeting took radically different turns. Several are now national leaders, including Li Keqiang, China’s prime minister. Others ended up in prison or exile, accused of supporting the demonstrations that shook the Communist Party and ended with soldiers sweeping through the city on June 4, shooting dead hundreds of unarmed protesters and bystanders.
  • 查看大图 Some of the current members of China’s Politburo attended a meeting in 1989 that was characterized by a spirit of openness and political experimentation. Li Keqiang, now prime minister.
    Sean Gallup/Getty Images
    Some of the current members of China’s Politburo attended a meeting in 1989 that was characterized by a spirit of openness and political experimentation. Li Keqiang, now prime minister.
  • 查看大图 Vice President Li Yuanchao
    Feng Li/Getty Images
    Vice President Li Yuanchao
  • 查看大图 Wang Qishan, chief of anticorruption investigations.
    Vincent Yu/Associated Press
    Wang Qishan, chief of anticorruption investigations.
  • 查看大图 Yu Zhengsheng, who handles policy on religious groups, ethnic minorities and nonparty groups.
    Lintao Zhang/Getty Images
    Yu Zhengsheng, who handles policy on religious groups, ethnic minorities and nonparty groups.
“The atmosphere at the meeting was to let a hundred flowers bloom and a hundred schools of thought contend,” said Chen Yizi, who helped organize the conference. “Afterwards, it was impossible to hold a meeting like that where everyone was willing to debate different points of view.”
This year is the 24th anniversary of the bloodshed, and the first under a party leadership dominated by officials with such intimate and ambivalent ties to the events of 1989. Many top leaders served their political apprenticeship in the 1980s, when the boundaries between the permissible and the forbidden were not as stark and heavily policed as they are now. Their careers and friendships, and sometimes their viewpoints, overlapped with intellectuals, officials and policy advisers who were jailed or dismissed after the June 4 crackdown.
Few expect China’s new leaders, installed in November, to overturn the official verdict that the protests were a counterrevolutionary rebellion that had to be crushed. But the immersion of today’s leaders in the political experimentation of the 1980s raises the question of whether they will be more open to new ideas and discussion than their immediate predecessors in high office.
Chinese leaders openly debate competing approaches to the economy, but their calls for political liberalization have become increasingly rare. For now, at least, any potential embrace of the more freewheeling spirit of the 1980s appears to be hindered by the conformism demanded of those who have ascended in the hierarchy — and their dread of being accused of ideological heresy.
Yet the lessons of June 4 and its repressive aftermath may weigh on the new leaders, especially if they are confronted by another political uprising, said Wu Wei, a former aide to Zhao Ziyang, the reform-minded party leader ousted shortly before the crackdown.
“For those in power now, it’s still a heavy political burden, even if it’s one that they can never openly discuss,” Mr. Wu said. “Now the people who took part in that time are middle-aged or older, and it’s still a knot in their hearts.”
Prime Minister Li, now 57, was one of six current members of the elite 25-member Politburo who attended the meeting, according to Zhong Dajun, an editor for the official Xinhua news agency at the time. Others included Li Yuanchao, the vice president; Wang Qishan, the chief of anti-corruption investigations; and Yu Zhengsheng, who deals with policy toward religious groups, ethnic minorities and nonparty groups.
Many of these future Chinese leaders were among the hundreds of thousands of students who crowded into universities beginning in the late 1970s, eager for knowledge after years of rote-learning Mao Zedong Thought during the Cultural Revolution, when colleges were mostly shut or paralyzed by ideological campaigns. Photographs showed them dressed in the blue or green cotton coats of the Mao era, a reminder of the drab conformity they yearned to escape.
Throughout the Tiananmen upheaval, Xi Jinping, the nation’s current president, was a local official in Fujian Province in China’s southeast, far from the protests in Beijing. But his father, Xi Zhongxun, a veteran Communist turned supporter of economic reform, had been a friend of Hu Yaobang, the Communist Party leader demoted in 1987 for his liberal tendencies and whose death in 1989 sent thousands swarming into Tiananmen Square to voice their grief and demand steps toward democracy.
There are some indications that the elder Mr. Xi obliquely signaled opposition to martial law but stepped into line after June 4, said Warren Sun, a historian at Monash University in Australia.
At the time, China had abandoned the ideological zealotry of Mao’s era and pursued market reforms under Deng Xiaoping that allowed farmers, factories and traders to escape state fetters. The economic changes were accompanied by a ferment of new ideas and calls for political opening and cultural renovation, despite counteroffensives against “spiritual pollution” led by conservatives.
“What we all shared was the belief that China had to reform, and to do so urgently,” said Chen Ziming, a writer. “The only real division among students and scholars was whether to reform the economy first, or take on political reform first, or do both at the same time.”
Many of China’s current leaders started climbing the political ladder in this febrile atmosphere, when it was not unusual for officials to mix with advocates of more radical change, and even to show some sympathy for them. As a student, Li Keqiang socialized with Hu Ping and Wang Juntao, two firebrands who threw themselves into the unbridled student elections of 1980. Friends say Mr. Li sometimes joined in campus salons, where students stayed up late into the night debating electoral politics, Western philosophy and the excesses of authoritarian rule.
Later, friends say, Mr. Li was cajoled by party officials into giving up the chance to study abroad and instead became a cadre in the Communist Youth League.
“At the time, we had a lot of views in common,” said Mr. Wang, who was jailed after June 4 and left for the United States in 1994. “A lot of the issues that came to divide us hadn’t arisen yet.”
Other future leaders came from similar backgrounds. Wang Qishan, the current anticorruption chief, won prominence in the early 1980s as one of the “four reform gentlemen,” young intellectuals who advocated shifting away from a rigidly planned economy. Later that decade, he sat on the editorial committee of Toward the Future, a series of books avidly read by students.
Chen Yizi, the former leader of the government institute that organized the Beijing conference, recalled having long chats with Mr. Wang and one long conversation with Mr. Li in 1988. Referring to China’s recently retired leadership, Mr. Chen said, “This generation should be more enlightened than Hu Jintao, Wen Jiabao and their generation.”
By 1989, divisions were tearing at the Communist leadership. Despite a decade of economic growth, students and intellectuals were dismayed by corruption and the party’s reluctance to emulate the changes sweeping the Soviet bloc. The broader public was also irate about official privilege and price reforms that had unleashed inflation.
Those tensions flared after the death of Hu Yaobang, when the mourning in Tiananmen Square escalated into demands to curtail the power and privilege of the party’s elite through steps to democracy and free speech.
Mr. Zhao and other relatively moderate members of the party hierarchy advocated measured political liberalization and press freedoms to defuse discontent. But hard-liners argued that liberalization was a menace, not a cure. They had the backing of Mr. Deng, who was more enthusiastic about economic reforms than about political compromise.
Wang Juntao, the democracy advocate, recalled meeting Li Keqiang, his former university acquaintance, for a last time in mid-May 1989, when Mr. Li was among a group of officials trying to coax students to end a hunger strike and return to class. “As a student, he used to speak his mind,” Mr. Wang said. “Now some of that pushiness was gone. He’d become an official who deferred to his superiors, but I still think he had a sense of justice.”
By the time the government declared martial law in Beijing on May 20, Mr. Zhao’s authority was broken, and Mr. Deng and party conservatives prepared a harsher response to students clogging Tiananmen Square. Two weeks later, soldiers and tanks plowed toward the square, and China went through a convulsion of purges and imprisonments.
To navigate these reversals, former acquaintances said Mr. Li and other Communist Youth League officials showed a ruthless pragmatism to ward off suspicions of disloyalty, taking steps that included attending meetings at which they denounced the protests as counterrevolutionary. “To survive in the party, you have to become an opportunist,” Mr. Wang said.
Soon after the June 4 crackdown, Xi Jinping’s wife, Peng Liyuan, a singer in a military troupe, was among the performers who entertained troops in Tiananmen Square. Photographs of her performance, published in a People’s Liberation Army magazine in 1989, spread briefly on the Chinese Internet this year before disappearing — a reminder of the sensitivities of that time.
“The party system changes people,” said Mr. Wu, the former official. “Once you go down that path, you learn that to defend yourself, you have to defend the system. But I don’t believe that era left no traces on them.”
Andrew Jacobs reported from Beijing, and Chris Buckley from Hong Kong. Patrick Zuo contributed research.

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