ht. Lib. Rev. (1990) 22, 141-148

A Personal View from China in Turmoil: Eyewitnesses to Revolution ELLEN AND RONALD CHAPMAN*

We were evacuated from Beijing Foreign Studies University 3 days after the massacre of students and workers in Tiananmen Square.

The year began well. We arrived in China in August, 1988 to begin an academic year teaching Library Science and English in one of the most notable universities in Beijing. Our assignment came about through an agreement between the School of Library and Information Studies at the University of Hawaii and Beijing Foreign Studies Uni- versity which sends Chinese students to study in Hawaii for M.L.S. degrees and American faculty to teach in Beijing.

The Chinese system of education is very different from ours in Amer- ica. Chinese high school graduates take national examinations and are usually permitted to request several possible careers. Depending on their exam results and what skills the central government decides it needs, students are assigned to educational institutions that specialize in that subject. There is no concept of a core curriculum. The students we taught had been exposed to very little in the sciences, the social sciences, or the humanities. There is no attempt to create a citizen who is “well rounded” in a number of disciplines. This produces students who have vast gaps in their knowledge and which makes library edu- cation difficult. Their level of English, however, was very high.

But our students were sweet and wonderful. They all possessed a refreshing innocence, a naivete, that was so different from worldly American students. Female students, for example, would think nothing of coming to talk with male instructors in their apartments in the evenings. Nothing could happen to them; we were their uncles and aunts and were thought of as part of the university family.

So our teaching ranged far beyond librarianship. We were asked, constantly, about life in the West. Information, comparisons, dis- cussions with students whose questions would not let us leave until we were hoarse. And then there were the questions on many subjects that students did not feel comfortable asking in public as we were accompanied to our apartment or dining hall.

* Elkn Chapman is a Reference Librarian at the Graduate Research Library, University of Hawaii at Manoa. Ronald is Director of the Honolulu Community College Library, University of Hawaii.

002@7837/90/030141 + 08 $03.00/0 0 1990 Academic Press Limited

142 E. AND R. CHAPMAN

The first semester was very enjoyable. We learned how the University operated and how we fitted in. Living’in Hawaii, we were familiar with Chinese food and chopsticks, and we enjoyed the culinary variations in different parts of this vast country. Because BFSU is primarily a language institution, teaching 28 languages, teachers are recruited from many different countries. As most of the foreigners lived in one building a very enjoyable social life quickly developed. We explored Beijing, Chinese students and teachers took us on trips, to restaurants, and to their homes. We had no inkling that our second semester would end so badly.

Many of the universities are located in the northwest section .of Beijing, put there, away from the center of the city, by a government that both respects and fears students. Close to BFSU is Beijing Univer- sity, the most prestigious educational institution in China, People’s University, Normal University, the Beijing Institute of Technology (the MIT of China), and so on. The new National Library of China is not far away.

Because this area of the city is comparatively new, the streets are wide, in contrast to many in Beijing. Once the demonstrations began everyone knew that troops and tanks would enter the city through the university area’s broad boulevards. To try to prevent this, students from several campuses barricaded the street that divides the BFSU campus at both ends, about a mile apart, allowing only a small space for one car to get through. Every vehicle was stopped, occupants ques- tioned, and if the students were not satisfied, forced to go back.

The atmosphere on the street was happy, euphoric, optimistic. It was like a giant block party, with thousands of people on the street taking in the heady experience of defying the government, daring them to act. When martial law was declared and the 10:00 p.m. curfew was not enforced, it became a matter of principle for people to be on the streets until midnight or later. The possibility of police or army violence was never far from people’s thoughts yet parents brought their young children to experience this crisis in China’s history.

The university gates on both sides of the street were plastered with “big character” posters, the writing of which was illegal. The posters were written in Chinese, English, and other Western languages. They quoted well-known poets and authors from East and West as well as original student work. Many of the posters used phrases and sentiments from the West. A handout from the campus Student Revolutionary Committee that was delivered to the foreign teachers’ mailboxes began, “Whereas in the course of human events . . .” There was no doubt that the students had somehow acquired the rhetoric, if perhaps not the fullest understanding, of the literature of freedom and democracy.

CHINA IN TURMOIL 143

One of the most poignant events we witnessed at this time occurred at the main gate. Someone had written a poster in Chinese calligraphy calling for the government to listen to the students and to establish a dialog with them. The writer had left a pot of ink and a brush on a chair under the poster so that people who agreed could sign as evidence of support. Putting one’s name on an illegal poster was truly putting your life on the line.

We watched as a woman in her mid-50’s, someone who had lived through the Cultural Revolution and knew the risk she was taking, stopped to read. She walked away, stopped, and came back to stand under the poster, Again she walked away, dithered for a while, then turned back and quickly picked up the brush and signed the characters for her name. Then she turned around and burst into tears. A woman, passing by, put her arms around her and they stood in the middle of the street, crying together. Chinese are not usually demonstrative in public, but those of us who saw this incident knew that this woman had taken a step that had placed her against her government, that she knew the possible consequences, but nevertheless acted out of conviction.

Teachers from nearby universities came to our campus to talk to the students and there were many large rallies and parades. It was not uncommon to enter a classroom early and find students making banners. But it was a bit unsettling to be in the middle of a discussion when the classroom door would open and a student leader would call everyone out for a demonstration in front of the Administration building.

Teaching, however, went on, although as time passed, fewer and fewer students showed up. Ellen was responsible for directing the gradu- ating students’ thesis papers. She had established various deadlines for the submission of chapters and even when the students vanished, drafts would mysteriously appear in our mailbox. Ellen corrected them, put them back in the mailbox, and they disappeared. The biggest problem was that because students and teachers were so preoccupied with all of the activities boiling around them, concentration on school work suffered. It became increasingly difficult to lecture on collection devel- opment or database searching when the entire fabric of Chinese life was being shredded.

The Gorbachev visit brought many Western reporters to Beijing. As the demonstrations intensified television networks had to scramble for news. Unfortunately, either from ignorance or the pressure to get a story, many Chinese people were exploited. We were witness to a very distressing incident.

We went to the Shangri-La Hotel one evening to buy the International Herald Tribune (printed and flown in from Hong Kong). As we were

144 E. AND R. CHAPMAN

leaving we heard a voice calling, “Miss Ellen, Miss Ellen!” It was a student, somewhat dirty, wearing a white hunger-striker headband. Ellen had given a guest lecture to his class about documenting sources. The student was accompanied by three Americans carrying video equipment; they worked for a major TV network.

The student was very excited. “They are taking me upstairs and I’ll be on American TV,” he said. We held his arms to prevent us all from being swept into the elevator. “I don’t think you should do this,” Ron said. “But I want to,” said the student. “It will be fun and the people in America will know what is happening in China.”

The elevator doors closed and he was gone. The student marches and demonstrations, the hunger strikers, the

humiliation of the People’s Liberation Army by the crowds, the Goddess of Democracy--all this and more was covered in detail by the media and served to the American people. We will not repeat this but will pick up our story on the day before the massacre and our later evacu- ation from China.

Saturday, June 3: Ron taught a class that morning for a group of students who were going to Australia to learn a new computer system and bring it back to install it in a computing center in Beijing. We were starting to get tired as we had been out on the street until at least midnight for the last 2 weeks. Masses of people gathered to listen to VOA and BBC being relayed by students over loudspeakers. It looked as though tonight would be no different from the others. Lots of rumours, much speculation, but no action.

But when we came back from the Foreign Experts dining hall after dinner we found a note, in English, pasted to the glass door of our residence: “Foreigners are advised not to go on the street tonight because we will not be able to protect you. Also do not go to Tiananmen Square.” (Signed) Waiban (Campus Foreign Affairs Department).

Excitement ran high that night. Many students told us that they expected the government to make its move soon. They were sure that force would be used. Perhaps tear gas, batons, or water cannons. But they felt that they had a moral position that transcended anything the government could do to them. Even with these premonitions, parents had their children on the street; people were buying ice cream, smoking, chatting. We gave up at 1:00 a.m. and went to bed.

Sunday, June 4: At 6:00 a.m. we were awakened by an American colleague who told us that the Army had attacked the students in the Square and that many had been killed.

The news spread in a flash. By 7.00 a.m. funeral music was being played over the University’s loudspeakers.

In the afternoon a banner was put up across the University gate. It

CHINA IN TURMOIL 145

was black with white characters. A student with a tear swollen face translated: “Where will we find the spirits of those who have died?” A search began, class by class, to determine if anyone was missing. Conflicting reports of those killed and injured circulated. We went to the dormitories and tried to comfort students who were sitting around, dazed and frightened. Others were packing and some had already left, trying to get home before the expected crackdown on the campuses.

We didn’t know what to do. Rumours swirled. The Army was coming. Two armies were fighting each other and civil war was break- ing out. The diplomatic area was being shot up. Should we pack? Should we stay? Would the University be closed?

Surprisingly, we were able to telephone home to say we were all right. Not long after, the phones were dead and even local calls were almost impossible. Television ignored the massacre and featured news of increased refrigerator and egg production. Campus administrators were invisible.

Monday, June 5: We were up early as sleep was hard. At 8:00 a.m. the customary martial music began as the elementary schoolchildren went through their morning exercises. Surely there wouldn’t be classes today! Not knowing what else to do we went to our classrooms.

Some of our students had shown up but they were in no mood to be taught. Some appeared to be in shock. We sat and tried to talk it out, but the government actions were so violent and so brutal that it almost could not be believed. One of our students told us that he was in the Square when the shooting began. He told us that the students on either side of him were killed. He said that when the shooting started they said to each other, “It’s only rubber bullets. Just turn your back.” They did and they died. Another student had an audio tape of the shooting. This tape was played over the University loudspeakers. The sound of automatic weapons and screams went on for a long, long, agonizing time. We asked for a copy of this tape and it was promised, but we never saw the student again. Rumour had it that 15 BFSU students had been killed and an unknown number injured or missing.

At lunch a colleague told us that she had contacted the American Embassy to find out what they thought we should do. The Embassy advised that because the situation was unclear and changing rapidly we should stay on campus where it appeared to be safe.

Rumors that the Army (now being called the People’s Liquidation Army) was on the way to the campuses intensified. Including non- teaching dependents there were about 100 foreigners at the University. In an informal agreement concluded over beer that evening we agreed to stay on campus with the hope that our presence might deter the troops from committing any further atrocities against our Chinese

146 E. AND R. CHAPMAN

students and teachers. Nobody really wanted to leave and we did not feel ourselves to be in danger. We felt so deeply for our students and colleagues that we could not bear to think of anything being done to them. So we decided to stay.

Tuesday, June 6: D-Day was decision day for us. Classes were suspended, not officially, but because the students were disappearing. Ron bicycled over to the East Campus to the Library School and on the street he came across a convoy of vehicles, headed by the Am- bassador’s car, all flying the Stars and Stripes. Intense, official types with walkie-talkies were striding up and down the line, coordinating passengers and drivers.

Ron identified himself as American and asked what was going on. He was told that American students and teachers were being given the opportunity to move to a safer location but no one was sure where that would be. Ron declined and the Embassy man said, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? If you change your mind later we can’t come back for you.” There was only one place in Beijing where foreigners were allowed to buy gasoline. It was closed and the Embassy vehicles would soon be useless.

Late that afternoon we learned that France had broken diplomatic relations with China and was evacuating its citizens. This broke the dam and one country after another began ordering its nationals out. After the Russians left, even taking furniture with them, the campus was very quiet. There were only twenty Americans left and we knew we couldn’t deter anyone.

After dinner we heard heavy guns firing from the direction of down- town. We were sure that civil war had broken out.

Later that evening the Embassy got through to us again. This time they told us that we had to get out as soon as possible. The Embassy had no drivers or vehicles. We would have to get to the airport by ourselves.

But how to get there? The road was dangerous and was being patrolled by trigger-happy soldiers. The University drivers said they did not want to risk it. One of our colleagues who spoke Chinese was able to explain the problem to an official. He telephoned the University President who ordered a driver to take us to the airport on Wednesday morning. This official also went to Tiananmen Square, ringed with tanks and soldiers, to pick up two American passports that were in the Public Security Building for visa renewals.

We spent Tuesday night packing and deciding what we had to leave behind.

Wednesday, June 7: A frantic morning. The Americans were the last group of foreigners to leave the University. Many Chinese students and

CHINA IN TURMOIL 147

teachers turned out to say goodbye and it was dreadful knowing that we were leaving and they were staying to await an uncertain fate. In the midst of this hubbub a University official took us aside and apolo- gized for not giving us a farewell banquet. Then he presented us each with a palm-sized University medal to thank us for our work! This was such a kind and thoughtful thing to do that it made us even more upset.

Finally, among the tears and fears, we left. It is normally an hour’s ride to the airport but it took us 35 minutes by a driver determined not to stop for anything. We passed burned out tanks and buses, barricades and masses of soldiers, but no shots were fired at us.

We arrived at the airport to find it jammed with foreigners trying to leave the country. After standing in line for several hours we got seats for the following afternoon and resigned ourselves to a night on the airport floor. If civil war had begun it was reasonable to expect that the airport might be closed. Every hour we’d go outside and stand in the drizzle to listen to foreign newscasts to find out if the troops were heading our way. The Embassy announced that a United Airlines 747 evacuation flight to take out non-essential State Department personnel and dependents would arrive in the morning and there might be additional space. Some of our group decided to get in line early just in case.

Thursday, June 8: Our sleep was interrupted throughout the night by cleaners who seemed to think it important that the space we were occupying on the floor be swept. We woke, but we wouldn’t move. Then other workers came to tell us that we had to give up our baggage carts because they belonged on a different floor. We pretended not to understand. Morning came ragged and early.

We decided to press our luck and try for a stand-by flight to Tokyo via Dalien. We had no difficulty getting on and for the first time after several days, began to relax a little. Our baggage was stowed and emergency procedures demonstrated when, claiming that the weather was unsuitable in Dalien, the flight was cancelled. We were told to leave our baggage on the plane.

Back in the airport we saw our plane being towed away to the other side of the terminal. We again started to find a way out. Ellen with others commandeered a bus to the aircraft to retrieve our baggage. Ron was able to get us on a flight leaving via Shanghai that evening. We sat in the airport in a semi-catatonic trance until our flight was called. This time we left as scheduled and after a stop in Shanghai for immigration formalities, arrived in Tokyo.

A $175.00 room and a $40.00 breakfast later we boarded a JAL flight for Honolulu.

So we’re all right. A bit shaken and depressed, but basically in good

148 E. AND R. CHAPMAN

shape. We will easily recover from having to leave most of our personal belongings behind and not being paid for the last 2 months because the banks were closed. But what about our Chinese students and colleagues in Beijing?

We read about the arrests, detentions, and executions and know that education in China is being pushed back into a dark corner. Thousands of Chinese intellectuals are being persecuted and we can do nothing. We read the lies printed in the Beijing Review and we are very angry. So many good, dedicated, and idealistic people are being treated as criminals by a government that rules by force and not consent.

This is not the end. It is only a temporary plateau on the road to democracy and freedom. The old men who have perpetrated these atrocities will not be around forever. When they pass from the scene the Chinese people who want democratic reforms, participation in the political process, and a better life, will rise again.