Chow Hang-tung: 37th Anniversary of the June Fourth Massacre: Our Story Is Not Over

This article follows the Chinese version; please scroll down for the English translation.

On 5.19, after delivering my closing statement in court, I returned to prison and saw news reports saying that Starbucks Korea had sparked public outrage by using a massacre 46 years ago as a promotional gimmick. The group chairman hastily apologised, and even the CEO was dismissed. Yet in my city, in a parallel universe, not only are candlelight vigils criminalised; every year, people openly hold markets and put on a festive facade on the anniversary of the massacre, at places of mourning, without shame or remorse and without consequences, while even receiving substantial government funding.

This is the difference between civilisation and barbarism, I suppose!

A society that has lost freedom of speech has never merely lost a few articles or a few events; it will often lose its soul as well, because ethics are born in the human heart and die at the hands of power; born in choice and die in uniformity; born in questioning and die in obedience.

“Power corrupts” is a hackneyed saying, but when the will of power permeates everything and becomes the highest principle guiding people’s actions and decisions, the decline of society becomes inevitable. Conversely, to resist the penetration of power, or even to try to put power back in its cage, we must begin by holding on to the basic bottom line of being human, step by step reclaiming our humanity from the hands of power.

Bringing this lawsuit is one such attempt: requiring myself not to say things I do not believe and not to do things I should not do, without worrying about success or failure.

Is it difficult? But this is nothing more than ordinary human nature—who is naturally fond of saying things against their conscience or doing things against their conscience? Being our most authentic selves should be the most natural and easiest thing.

I have no great ambitions. The utopia I imagine is actually no more than a place where everyone can live comfortably and freely, with lives that are a little more authentic and a little easier. But excessively concentrated power has always been a distorting funhouse mirror of human nature. Therefore, balancing power and ending dictatorship are non-negotiable; there is no room to retreat or evade them.

Protecting the memory of June Fourth is, in fact, protecting that same human bottom line. When we take one more step in accordance with our conscience, the territory of power correspondingly shrinks by one part.

On June Fourth, please continue to:

Remember, record, share the burden, walk together, and be that better—and more natural—self.

On the great matter of right and wrong that is June Fourth, if we can stand firm, we can develop antibodies against the corrosive effects of power. This ability is the most reliable support for breaking the cycle of dictatorship and ultimately ending the worship of power.

This year marks the 37th anniversary of the June Fourth massacre.

I will continue my 37-hour hunger strike in prison.

Please do not forget:

Behind the aura of power and dictatorship lie the blood and shattered dreams of ordinary people. Forgetting is precisely the root cause of democracy’s decline and ultimate demise.

The story of Zhi Ji has already been told.

I hope everyone can take up the relay and continue telling it~

In the struggle between memory and the rewriting of memory......

Our story~is~not~over~!

37th Anniversary of the June Fourth Massacre: Our Story Still Has Chapters Yet to Be Written

On May 19, after delivering my closing statement in court, I returned to prison and discovered that news reports said Starbucks Korea had provoked public outrage by using a massacre 46 years ago as a marketing gimmick. The group chairman hastily apologised, and the CEO was even dismissed. Yet in my city—as if it were in a parallel universe—not only are candlelight vigils regarded as criminal, but year after year, people openly hold markets on the anniversary of the massacre, at the very sites of mourning, decorate them with festive displays, and show no shame or remorse. These organisers face no consequences; on the contrary, they even receive substantial government funding.

Perhaps this is precisely the dividing line between civilisation and barbarism.

A society that loses freedom of speech never merely loses a few articles or a few events—it loses its soul. Morality is born in the human heart but dies at the hands of power; born in choice but dies in uniformity; born in inquiry but dies in blind obedience.

“Power corrupts” is a cliché, but when the will of power permeates everything and becomes the highest standard for people’s actions and decisions, the decline of society becomes inevitable. Conversely, to resist the erosion of power, or even to try to put it back in its cage, we must firmly return to basic human values and reclaim our humanity from the clutches of power, step by step.

This legal struggle is one such attempt: requiring myself not to say things I do not believe and not to do things I should not do, without fixating on success or failure.

Is it difficult? Yet this is nothing more than basic human nature. Who is born loving to say things against their conscience or do things that violate their own conscience? Being our most authentic selves should be the easiest and most natural thing in the world.

I have no grand ambitions. The utopia I envision is no more than a place where everyone can live comfortably and freely, with lives that are a little more authentic and a little easier. Yet excessively concentrated power has always distorted human nature like a funhouse mirror. Therefore, balancing power and ending dictatorship are non-negotiable; we have no room to retreat or evade them.

Preserving the memory of June Fourth means protecting that same human bottom line. When we move one step further in accordance with our conscience, the tentacles of authoritarian power correspondingly recede by one part.

June Fourth is a matter of principle. If we stand firm on this issue, we can build the resilience necessary to resist the corrosion of power. This resilience is our most reliable safeguard against the perpetuation of dictatorship and the worship of power.

This year marks the 37th anniversary of the June Fourth massacre, and I will continue my 37-hour hunger strike in prison.

Please do not forget:

Behind the aura of power and dictatorship lie the blood and shattered dreams of ordinary people. Democracy’s decline stems from amnesia. They can lock us up, but they cannot lay a hand on our souls.

Since the story of the Hong Kong Alliance in Support of Patriotic Democratic Movements of China has been told, let us take up the baton and continue to lead the way.

In the struggle between remembering and rewriting memory……our story is far from over!