The violent repression of the 1989 student protests scarred Chinese society. The campaign to purge “two-faced” protest sympathizers that followed was similarly painful. Yet some of the greatest unresolved anguish from that tumultuous year stems from the realization among those who served prison sentences that dear friends and trusted colleagues informed on them—or even framed them.
Just such a case has re-entered the public eye 35 years after the fact due to the reporting of the investigative journalist Chai Jing, creator of the 2015 air pollution documentary “Under the Dome.” In 1989, the poet Zheng Shiping, better known by his pen name Ye Fu, was charged with revealing state secrets and sentenced to six years in prison. After his release, Ye Fu alleged that the Mao Dun-prize winning novelist Xiong Zhaozheng, his former classmate and friend, had set him up. Ye Fu’s allegation is decades old. Xiong has never publicly admitted to acting as an informant, although according to Ye Fu he has previously apologized in private. As part of a recent interview series for her YouTube channel, Chai Jing interviewed both Ye Fu and Xiong. Her brief interview with Xiong was dominated by silence. Far more than a rehashing of bitter recriminations about 1989, the call, which Chai Jing posted in full and whose transcript is translated below, proves an illuminating example of the “public secrecy” that surrounds the Tiananmen movement.
While the 1989 student movement is among the most sensitive and censored topics in China, the silence surrounding it is not solely a matter of government enforcement. “Public secrecy” is Margaret Hillenbrand’s term for the cult of self-interested silence that surrounds the most traumatic instances in modern Chinese history. Hillenbrand explained the term in an interview on her book “Negative Exposures” published by CDT earlier this year:
In the book, I say something like “the silences of the past are conspiratorial.” Public secrecy has a lot of stakeholders. It has a lot of participants. People want to obey this law of omertà for all sorts of different reasons. They might keep them because speaking out is dangerous for themselves or for their families or because some words really hurt—so silence is therapeutic. Some people are really ashamed of their past deeds. That’s obviously a really big thing. Some people mute themselves to keep the fragile peace or to maintain social bonds with other fellow secret-keepers, if you like. I think, in that sense, that public secrecy is highly mindful. It’s a mode of thinking about historical consciousness which restores agency to people instead of seeing them as targets for brainwashing.
[…] Self-censorship is fundamentally a reluctant practice. People police their words because they fear the consequences if they speak more plainly. Public secrecy is different from self-censorship because it acknowledges the much, much trickier truth that some survivors, some witnesses, some perpetrators, have no desire to speak about their pasts at all. In fact, they might vastly prefer silence for reasons of pain or fear or shame or guilt or complicity or whatever. [Source]
CDT has translated the conversation between Chai Jing, the journalist, and Xiong Zhaozheng, the alleged informant, in full:
00:00 Chai Jing calls Xiong Zhaozheng.
00:26 Chai Jing: [Self-introduction.] Ye Fu spoke of what occurred between you two during June Fourth. I’m hoping to accurately and fairly cover it.
00:39 Xiong Zhaozheng: I’ve never wanted to talk about it. The truth will come out in the end.
00:55 Chai Jing: 30 years have passed. You’ve always said you’re looking for the right moment to talk. You turn seventy this year. Isn’t the present a good opportunity?
01:17 Xiong: I still don’t think it’s time to talk.
01:20 Chai: When do you think that time will be?
01:30 Xiong: I still don’t think it’s worth speaking about such a trivial matter over and over again after so many years. In life there is no need—indeed it’s not worth it—to delve into memory in this way. Historical truths are always eventually brought to light.
02:05 Chai: Mr. Xiong, you and Ye Fu were classmates, friends, even brothers, back then. He once deeply respected you. This incident landed him in jail. He’s suffered much trauma. He believes he’s owed the truth.
02:24 Xiong: I’m travelling a country road right now. The signal might drop at any moment. I also don’t want to talk about this.
02:33 Chai: I’ve read your works. I know how you were feeling when you wrote about Zhang Juzheng [a Ming-era politician who served both the Longqing and Wanli emperors]. I know that, when it comes down to it, you care about your reputation after death. If you don’t refute or even respond to Ye Fu’s allegation, then it seems you’ll be viewed as an informant—or even as someone who framed him. I don’t think this is how anyone, let alone an intellectual, would want to be remembered by history, so I’ve given you the chance to set the record straight.
03:12 Xiong: At present, I don’t want to talk about any of that: who framed who, who informed on who. I didn’t do any of that and have no need to defend myself.
03:29 Chai: The thing that he [Ye Fu] cannot wrap his head around is that he went to Guangzhou on your behalf to send a document that you told him an overseas democracy activist would pick up. Later, when the procuratorate brought forth the charges, your name wasn’t mentioned, nor was the name of the overseas democracy activist—even though [the procuratorate] had all the documents. This perplexed him. I’m sure you can understand his feelings, right? Why weren’t you charged with a crime while he was sent to prison?
04:03 Xiong: [Silence.]
04:21 Chai: Mr. Xiong, are you still there?
04:24 Xiong: [Silence.]
04:29 Chai: Mr. Xiong?
04:40 Xiong: [Silence.]
04:40 Chai: Mr. Xiong?
04:41 Xiong: [Silence.]
04:45 Chai: That’s fine. If you don’t wish to speak with me, just say so. I will respect your wishes.
04:52 Xiong: [Silence.]
05:08 Chai: I imagine you’re still reflecting on it. I’ve read your poems and essays. You’ve got classical training that many Chinese intellectuals lack. I think you’ve got something weighing on your conscience. When looking back on that time in history, every person has an explanation, and perhaps every person can be forgiven their reasons. If only you would say what really happened, I imagine that both your friends at the time, and perhaps you, will probably see it as a form of relief. Wouldn’t you agree?
05:50 Xiong: [Silence.]
06:06 Chai: You’re staying silent but you also have not hung up the phone on me. Therefore, I’ll say a few more words. In his later years, Ying Ruocheng wrote “Voices Carry: Behind Bars and Backstage During China’s Revolution and Reform.” In his own later years, Feng Yidai wrote “Journal in Remorse.” [CDT Editor’s Note: In their memoirs, both Ying and Feng admitted that they had once served as CCP “informers,” monitoring and informing on their friends, leading to denunciations and arrests.] When intellectuals find themselves ruminating on something, they want to make a record for history, themselves, and their friends. History is complex and human nature is profound. I hope that when future generations take your measure, they will be able to take your own words into account. In that way, your family, your descendants, and future generations can gain a more objective understanding of that moment in history.
07:07 Xiong: [Silence.]
07:21 Chai: Think about it. From 1990 to today, you’ve promised to sit down and talk with Ye Fu. You’ve even told him that when principal Liu and his other classmates apologize to him, that you’ll talk. I think you desire to unburden your conscience.
07:49 Xiong: [Silence.]
08:05 Chai: If you keep your silence and forever dodge this, I am sure that your conscience will be saddled with a very heavy burden … I don’t think it will be an easy one to carry. I read that Feng Yidai couldn’t sleep in his old age. I also read that Ying Ruocheng, when he was old and hospitalized, told Ying Da that he felt like everyone around him was an informant or a spy—he lived in torment. If at some point you find that the events of that time must be addressed and have a desire to tell your truth, I’m telling you: I will listen. I am willing to understand. Are you willing to speak?
08:55 Xiong: [Silence.]
09:12 Chai: Mr. Xiong, I know you’re still there. You haven’t hung up the phone. It might be that you’re still thinking about it. I hope that the transcript of this phone call does not become your final comment on that moment in history.
09:34 Xiong: [Silence.]
10:01 Chai: I will wait as long as it takes. Either you’ll begin speaking or you’ll have to hang up the phone.
10:07 Xiong: [Silence.]
15:18: [After 11 minutes of silence, Xiong Zhaozheng hangs up the phone.] [Chinese]
