One of the most iconic photographs ever taken in China cannot be viewed inside China legally. The image is from 1989 in Beijing’s Tiananmen Square. It shows a column of tanks in single file on a wide boulevard. They’ve stopped in their tracks because one man stands still in their path, the first tank just a few feet from him. The “Tank Man” photo, as it’s come to be known is, for people all over the world, emblematic of the Tiananmen Square massacre. But in China, it’s banned by the government.
In this file photo, a Chinese man stands alone to block a line of tanks heading east on Beijing’s Changan Blvd. in Tiananmen Square, June 4, 1989.Jeff Widener/AP/File photo
That photo, and the official suppression of this chapter in Chinese history, is the basis for a new book that came out last week by acclaimed novelist Ha Jin. “Looking for Tank Man: A Novel” is the story of a university student from China who first learns about the deadly Tiananmen crackdown only after she arrives in the US to study at Harvard University. The novel drew inspiration from the author’s own experience, as Ha Jin explained to Host Carolyn Beeler in The World’s Boston studio.
Carolyn Beeler: So, this photo that the title of your book references, “Looking for Tank Man,” this photo has been banned in China. Why?
Ha Jin: It is a problematic photo. In the beginning, people believed, and still believe, that it was staged by the Chinese propaganda apparatus because this was staged to show the leniency of the military to the civilians.
Some people believe this was staged by the Chinese government to show “we’re not running over this protester.”
Yes, in fact the crew was praised for stopping without running over this single man. On the other hand, the scene was caught by Western reporters, so suddenly it became a global phenomenon. So, it’s well beyond the Chinese propaganda officials control. In fact, ironically, the central TV China, they broadcast this thing early on. And then they realized this became global and they had to ban it.
Host Carolyn Beeler with Chinese American poet and novelist Ha Jin in The World’s Boston studio.Jenna Gadbois/The World
Your novel presents both of these perspectives of this image as propaganda that the Chinese government staged this to show leniency to the protesters and the way Westerners interpreted it as showing defiance, which then Chinese people think it’s propaganda for the West.
Manufactured by Western media.
I was particularly interested in speaking with you about this novel because there’s overlapping in your own story. At the time of the Tiananmen Square massacre you were studying in the US and I’ve read that what happened there played a part in your decision to stay here after graduate school. Was that a hard decision for you?
Very hard. I was confused because when I had come to the US, I didn’t plan to immigrate. So, I thought I would finish my dissertation and return to China. I had a job waiting for me. But after this massacre, my world was basically turned upside down. And I realized China was such a brutal country. I just wouldn’t serve a government like that. I was totally disillusioned. Suddenly, I realized the country is not a mother but is a monster eating her own children.
Are you able to go back?
I was blacklisted. In fact, my parents, both of them, when they were very sick, hospitalized, I tried hard to go back to see them. But I was not given a visa. That was the final straw. I told them I would not come for a visa anymore.
This brings me back to your novel. Lulu, the main character, is a PhD candidate. So, she learns about Tiananmen. She becomes very interested in the history. She decides to pursue a PhD on the topic. She chooses to write this dissertation about Tiananmen Square before it seems she fully considers the repercussions of that decision and that it might make it impossible for her to return to China. Do you think that’s realistic?
Yeah. I do believe, look, there’s a lot of madness in this. We are not always rational. In her case, intuitively, she felt she was deeply related or connected to the tragedy. In a way she is because she was conceived after that. I think intuitively, physically, she felt she had to do it. That’s what she was as a human being.
You painted a relatively nuanced view of the military in this novel. There’s a character we meet, a former soldier, who was at Tiananmen Square and he is not repentant about his the part he played. But we also hear about soldiers who stalled so that they would not have to go into Tiananmen Square and harm civilians. Can you talk to me more about your portrayal of these different approaches in the military?
This kind of balanced presentation of the military, in fact even the soldiers, they were surprised. They never thought that they would go in and kill civilians. But in [this] situation, everything’s out of hand. I wanted to give a truthful description of the moment and the people caught in the violence, although, in fact, there are real people who talk like that, who had the same kind of experience.
I know that you served in the Chinese military as a teenager yourself before you came to the US. How much of your experience serving worked its way into this novel?
There are a lot of details, small details. For instance, a lot of troops were moving in [on] all the civilians and they were moving in to shell, those murderers. But the the fact is the guns, the artillery pieces, they were all under the canvas. You know, the barrels, everything, the canvas was not taken off. So, that means they were not ready to fight at all. So, there are details like those.
I have a a craft or style question for you about the voice of your narrator. Lulu, your main character, is very focused, very matter of fact, very dedicated to her school work. And the writing itself is very to the point, very straightforward, not a lot of creative flourishes, the dialog is also straightforward, it reads differently than some of your previous novels. How did you land on her voice?
I had to spend a lot of time with her. Also this novel, the nature [of it], this must be a kind of stark story. So, the style cannot be lyrical. For instance, in my other books, like “Waiting,” there is a kind of lyrical quality in the prose. But for this book, it has to be [in a] very matter-of-fact way.
This read, at times, like a historical nonfiction, and you’ve said you wanted this book to help keep what happened at Tiananmen alive. Did you write it with more of a mission than previous books, and thus you were thinking more of making a point, really spelling out the history that made this feel different than previous novels?
Yes, but I have written other novels, for instance, “War Trash” is also a historical novel. So, there was a lot of research in that, too. And there’s a different kind of beauty in the craft of fiction. If it is really very, very truthful, based upon reality. So, there’s a lot of strength in it. So for me, the strength is more important than beauty.
This interview has been lightly edited and condensed for clarity.
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