作者：陈森锋

        1989年的六四民主运动，是中国近代史上最重要、也最惨痛的历史转折之一。

        那一年，中国本来有机会走向更开放、更文明、更接近现代民主政治的道路。学生走上街头，市民走上街头，他们提出的不是暴力对抗，也不是颠覆国家，而是反腐败、要自由、要新闻开放、要政治改革，要求政府正面回应人民的声音。

        面对这些手无寸铁的学生和市民，中共最高实际掌权者邓小平没有选择对话，没有选择尊重民意，而是把和平请愿定性为“动乱”，最后用军队、坦克和实弹，把中国人追求自由民主的希望碾碎在北京街头。

        这就是邓小平在六四中的历史角色：他不是旁观者，不是被蒙蔽者，不是事后才知道的人，而是最高政治拍板者，是武力镇压的最高责任人

  胡耀邦去世后，学生自发悼念，很快发展成全国性的民主诉求。学生要求反腐败、反官倒、新闻自由、政治改革。这些要求放在任何正常国家，都是政府应该认真面对的问题。可是中共政权面对人民最基本的政治诉求，第一反应不是反省，而是恐惧。

        4月25日前后，李鹏、杨尚昆等人向邓小平汇报学生运动情况。邓小平没有把学生看成国家未来的一代青年，没有把民众的愤怒看成社会矛盾的警钟，而是把这场运动上升到所谓“反党反社会主义”的高度。随后，《人民日报》发表“四二六社论”，把学生运动定性为“动乱”。

        这一步极其关键。

        一旦把学生说成“动乱”，就等于为下一步镇压制造政治借口。中共最惯用的手法，就是先在舆论上把人民污名化，再在行动上对人民下重手。邓小平在六四问题上的第一大罪，就是亲手推动了这种政治定性，把一场爱国、反腐、要求民主改革的群众运动，污蔑成威胁政权的敌对行动。

        这不是简单的判断失误，这是独裁者面对人民觉醒时的本能反应。

        到了5月，学生绝食，天安门广场聚集大量学生、市民和声援者。北京街头不是暴乱现场，而是一个民族在沉默多年后终于发出的政治呐喊。很多人并不是为了个人利益，而是希望中国不要继续在专制、腐败、特权和谎言中沉沦。

        当时中共内部并非没有另一种选择。赵紫阳主张缓和局势，主张对话，反对用暴力解决问题。可是邓小平不接受这条路。作为中共最高实际掌权者，他最终选择站在强硬派一边，选择戒严，选择调动军队，选择用枪口对准人民。

        5月17日前后，关于是否戒严、是否调军队进京的决定，在邓小平等中共元老主导下形成。5月20日，北京正式戒严。这个决定标志着中共已经不再把学生和市民当作可以沟通的人民，而是当作必须压服的对象。

        戒严之后，军队第一次进京受阻。大量北京市民拦住军车，给士兵送水、讲道理，劝他们不要镇压学生。那一幕说明，当时站出来的不只是学生，而是整个城市的良知。北京市民用身体挡住军队，不是为了制造动乱，而是为了保护学生，为了阻止国家机器对人民开枪。

        可是邓小平没有因此回头。

        他没有问一句：为什么这么多市民愿意冒险保护学生？

        他没有问一句：中国人民为什么会如此不满？

        他没有问一句：一个执政党如果要靠军队才能面对青年学生，这个政权到底出了什么问题？

        他选择的是继续调兵，继续加压，继续把事情推向流血结局。

        6月2日前后，清场的最后决定形成。随后，大批戒严部队向北京城内推进。6月3日晚到6月4日凌晨，枪声响起，坦克开进城市，军队向手无寸铁的学生和市民开火。长安街、木樨地、西单、天安门周边，许多普通人倒在枪口之下。有人只是围观，有人只是劝阻，有人只是想救人，有人只是站在街头表达自己的政治立场。

        他们面对的是国家军队，是本应保卫人民的军队。可是那一夜，人民解放军成了镇压人民的工具。枪口没有对准外敌，而是对准自己的学生、市民和纳税人。

        这是六四最大的罪恶。

        更可耻的是，六四之后，邓小平没有认错，没有道歉，没有追责镇压者，反而公开接见戒严部队，称他们经受住了“考验”，继续把人民的抗争污蔑为“反革命暴乱”。他悼念的是执行镇压的一方，而不是被打死、被碾压、被追捕、被判刑的普通中国人。

        这说明邓小平不是一时误判，而是从头到尾都站在独裁政权一边。他关心的不是人民生命，不是国家未来，不是中国是否能走向民主文明，而是中共政权是否能继续稳固。

        有人说邓小平推动了改革开放，因此不能仅以六四评价其历史地位。这种说法回避了最根本的问题：经济改革不能抵消屠杀人民的罪行。一个人即使推动过经济发展，也没有权力下令军队镇压学生和市民。高速公路、工厂、外资、GDP，都不能洗白天安门前后的血。

        邓小平所谓“让一部分人先富起来”，从制度结果看，本身就是一个巨大的陷阱。在一党专政、没有民主监督、没有新闻自由、没有司法独立的体制下，最容易先富起来的不是普通百姓，而是掌握政策、资源、土地、金融和审批权的权贵集团。所谓“先富带后富”，最后变成了权贵先富、官商勾结、红色家族和白手套转移财富，普通百姓却长期承受高房价、低工资、债务、失业和社会保障不足的压力。

        更根本的问题在于，邓小平先用坦克镇压人民争取民主的权利，再用经济发展给人民画饼：你们不要政治权利，只要安心赚钱就行。可是人民没有政治权利，怎么保障自己的财富权利？没有选票，没有新闻自由，没有独立法院，没有真正的宪政法治，人民所谓的财产随时可能被权力夺走。独裁体制下，人的生命都不真正属于自己，财富又怎么可能真正属于自己？

        所以，邓小平留下的不是自由市场，而是党国控制下的权贵资本主义；不是共同富裕，而是特权集团先富、普通人民被收割；不是现代文明国家的道路，而是用经济增长掩盖政治奴役的专制模式。

        六四不只是一次屠杀，也是一场历史路线的终结。

        邓小平毁掉的，不只是1989年那一代学生的生命和命运，也毁掉了中国和平转型的重大机会。如果当时中共选择对话、选择让步、选择政治改革，中国完全可能走向另一条道路：新闻可以逐步开放，权力可以逐步受到监督，腐败可以被制度约束，人民可以有真正的政治参与。

        可是邓小平选择了坦克。

        他用枪声告诉中国人：共产党可以改革经济，但绝不允许人民分享政治权力；共产党可以谈开放，但权力一旦受到挑战，就会毫不犹豫地杀人。

        这就是邓小平留给中国的真正政治遗产。

        六四之后，中共用谎言封锁真相，用审查删除记忆，用监控压制纪念，用恐惧迫使人民沉默。遇难者家属几十年不能公开悼念，幸存者长期被监控，流亡者无法回国，年轻一代在墙内甚至不知道1989年北京发生过什么。

        一个政权连死难者名字都害怕，说明它知道自己有罪。一个政府连蜡烛、鲜花、纪念日都要封杀，说明它的统治建立在血债和谎言之上。

        邓小平在六四中的罪责，不能因为时间流逝而被淡化，也不能因为中共宣传机器长期洗地而被改写。他不是所谓“伟人晚年犯错”，而是在关键历史时刻选择用军队镇压人民的独裁者。他亲手把中国从可能的政治改革道路上拖回专制轨道，把学生和市民的和平诉求变成血流成河的国家罪案。

        对手无寸铁的学生和市民开枪，是不可饶恕的罪。

        用坦克碾碎人民追求自由的希望，是不可饶恕的罪。

        事后继续污蔑死难者、赞扬镇压者，更是不可饶恕的罪。

        六四是中共永远洗不掉的血债。邓小平作为最高拍板者，必须被钉在历史的耻辱柱上。

        他不是中国民主的改革者，而是中国民主机会的毁灭者。

        他不是所谓民族功臣，而是镇压人民的民族败类。

        他不是值得纪念的伟人，而是六四屠夫、千古罪人。

       

        历史可以被中共暂时封锁，但不可能永远被埋葬。死难者的名字终有一天会被公开记住，屠杀者的责任终有一天会被追究。六四不是过去式，而是中国人必须面对的真相。

       

        忘记六四，就是纵容屠杀。

        美化邓小平，就是侮辱死难者。

        只要天安门的血债没有追责，邓小平“六四屠夫”的历史定性就永远不能改变。

编辑：钟然

校对：王滨

翻译：沈美花

Never Forget the 37th Anniversary of June Fourth:Deng Xiaoping — Butcher of June Fourth and Sinner Before History

Author: Chen Senfeng

Abstract: This article reviews the June Fourth Democracy Movement of 1989 and the subsequent crackdown, analyzes Deng Xiaoping’s role in the decision-making process, criticizes his choice to end a historic opportunity for political reform through military force, and examines the profound impact of the June Fourth Incident on China’s political development.

The June Fourth Democracy Movement of 1989 was one of the most important—and most tragic—turning points in modern Chinese history.

That year, China had an opportunity to move toward a path that was more open, more civilized, and closer to modern democratic politics. Students took to the streets. Citizens took to the streets. What they demanded was not violent confrontation, nor the overthrow of the state. They called for an end to corruption, for freedom, for greater press openness, and for political reform. They asked the government to respond seriously to the voices of the people.

Faced with these unarmed students and citizens, Deng Xiaoping, the highest de facto ruler of the Chinese Communist Party, chose neither dialogue nor respect for public opinion. Instead, he labeled the peaceful petition movement as “turmoil” and ultimately used troops, tanks, and live ammunition to crush the Chinese people’s hopes for freedom and democracy on the streets of Beijing.

This was Deng Xiaoping’s historical role in June Fourth: he was not a bystander, not someone who had been misled, nor someone who learned of events only afterward. He was the highest political decision-maker and the person bearing ultimate responsibility for the military suppression.

After the death of Hu Yaobang, students began spontaneous memorial activities, which soon developed into a nationwide movement advocating democratic reform. The students called for anti-corruption measures, opposition to official profiteering, freedom of the press, and political reform. In any normal country, such demands would have been issues the government should have addressed seriously. Yet when faced with the most basic political demands of the people, the Communist regime’s first reaction was not self-reflection, but fear.

Around April 25, Li Peng and Yang Shangkun reported the situation of the student movement to Deng Xiaoping. Deng did not view the students as the future generation of the nation, nor did he regard public anger as a warning sign of social contradictions. Instead, he elevated the movement to the level of what he called an “anti-Party and anti-socialist” challenge. Soon afterward, the April 26 People’s Daily Editorial labeled the student movement as “turmoil.”

This step was critically important.

Once the students were branded as perpetrators of “turmoil,” a political justification for subsequent repression had effectively been created. One of the Chinese Communist Party’s most frequently used methods has been to first stigmatize the people through propaganda and then deal harshly with them through action. Deng Xiaoping’s first major crime in the June Fourth crisis was personally advancing this political characterization, transforming a patriotic mass movement demanding anti-corruption measures and democratic reform into what was portrayed as a hostile threat to the regime.

This was not merely a mistake in judgment. It was the instinctive reaction of a dictator confronted by an awakening people.

By May, students had begun a hunger strike, and Tiananmen Square was filled with students, citizens, and supporters. The streets of Beijing were not scenes of riot and chaos; they were the stage for a nation finally giving voice to its political aspirations after years of silence. Many participants were not acting for personal gain. They hoped only that China would not continue sinking into authoritarianism, corruption, privilege, and deception.

At the time, there was not only one possible course of action within the Communist Party leadership. Zhao Ziyang advocated easing tensions, pursuing dialogue, and opposing the use of violence to resolve the crisis. But Deng Xiaoping rejected this path. As China’s highest de facto ruler, he ultimately sided with the hardliners. He chose martial law. He chose to mobilize the military. He chose to point the guns at the people.

Around May 17, under the leadership of Deng Xiaoping and other Party elders, decisions regarding martial law and troop deployment into Beijing took shape. On May 20, martial law was formally declared in Beijing. This decision marked the point at which the Communist Party no longer viewed students and citizens as people with whom dialogue was possible, but as subjects that had to be subdued.

After martial law was imposed, the military’s first attempt to enter Beijing was blocked. Large numbers of Beijing residents stopped military vehicles, brought water to soldiers, reasoned with them, and urged them not to suppress the students. That scene demonstrated that it was not only students who had stood up, but the conscience of an entire city. The citizens of Beijing used their own bodies to block the military—not to create turmoil, but to protect the students and prevent the machinery of the state from opening fire on its own people.

But Deng Xiaoping did not turn back.

He did not ask:Why were so many citizens willing to risk themselves to protect the students?

He did not ask:Why were the Chinese people so dissatisfied?

He did not ask:If a ruling party must rely on the military to confront university students, what has gone wrong with that regime?

Instead, he chose to send more troops, apply greater pressure, and push events toward a bloody conclusion.

Around June 2, the final decision to clear the square was made. Soon afterward, large numbers of martial-law troops advanced into central Beijing. On the night of June 3 and into the early hours of June 4, gunfire erupted, tanks rolled into the city, and the military opened fire on unarmed students and civilians. Along Chang’an Avenue, at Muxidi, Xidan, and in areas surrounding Tiananmen, many ordinary people fell before the guns.

Some were merely bystanders.Some were trying to persuade the troops to stop.Some were attempting to rescue the wounded.Some were simply standing in the streets expressing their political views.

What they faced was the national army—the very army that was supposed to protect the people.

Yet on that night, the People’s Liberation Army became an instrument for suppressing the people. Its guns were not aimed at foreign enemies, but at its own students, citizens, and taxpayers.

This was the greatest crime of June Fourth.

Even more disgraceful was what followed. After June Fourth, Deng Xiaoping neither admitted fault, apologized, nor held those responsible for the crackdown accountable. Instead, he publicly met with the martial-law troops, praised them for having withstood the “test,” and continued to label the people’s resistance as a “counterrevolutionary riot.”

He mourned and honored those who carried out the suppression, not the ordinary Chinese people who had been shot, crushed, hunted down, imprisoned, or sentenced.

This demonstrates that Deng Xiaoping’s actions were not the result of a momentary misjudgment. From beginning to end, he stood on the side of authoritarian rule.

What concerned him was not the lives of the people, not the future of the nation, and not whether China could move toward democracy and civilization. What concerned him was whether the Chinese Communist Party could continue to maintain its hold on power.

Some argue that Deng Xiaoping promoted Reform and Opening-Up and therefore his historical legacy should not be judged solely by June Fourth.

Such an argument avoids the most fundamental issue: economic reform cannot erase the crime of killing one’s own people.

Even if a person contributed to economic development, that does not give him the right to order the military to suppress students and civilians.

Highways, factories, foreign investment, and GDP growth cannot wash away the blood spilled in and around Tiananmen.

Deng Xiaoping’s famous policy of “letting some people get rich first,” viewed from the perspective of its institutional consequences, became a massive trap.

Under a one-party dictatorship lacking democratic oversight, freedom of the press, and judicial independence, those most likely to become rich first were not ordinary citizens, but those who controlled policies, resources, land, finance, and administrative approval powers.

What was supposed to be “some getting rich first in order to help others become prosperous later” ultimately became a system in which political elites accumulated wealth first. Collusion between officials and business interests flourished. Families connected to the revolutionary elite and their intermediaries transferred enormous amounts of wealth, while ordinary people endured high housing prices, low wages, debt burdens, unemployment, and inadequate social welfare protections.

More fundamentally, Deng Xiaoping first used tanks to suppress the people’s struggle for democratic rights and then offered economic development as compensation, effectively saying:

You do not need political rights; you only need to focus on making money.

But without political rights, how can people protect their property rights?

Without elections, freedom of the press, independent courts, and genuine constitutional rule of law, the property of ordinary citizens can be taken away by power at any time.

In an authoritarian system, if people’s lives do not truly belong to themselves, how can their wealth truly belong to them?

Thus, what Deng Xiaoping left behind was not a free market, but crony capitalism operating under a Party-state system.

It was not common prosperity, but a system in which privileged groups became wealthy first while ordinary people were exploited.

It was not a path toward a modern and civilized nation, but an authoritarian model that used economic growth to conceal political oppression.

June Fourth was not merely a massacre.

It was also the end of an alternative historical path.

What Deng Xiaoping destroyed was not only the lives and destinies of the students of 1989.

He also destroyed one of China’s greatest opportunities for a peaceful political transformation.

Had the Communist Party chosen dialogue, compromise, and political reform, China might have followed a different path.

The press could gradually have become more open.

Political power could gradually have become subject to oversight.

Corruption could have been constrained by institutions.

Citizens could have gained genuine political participation.

But Deng Xiaoping chose tanks.

Through gunfire, he sent a message to the Chinese people:

The Communist Party may reform the economy, but it will never allow the people to share political power.

The Communist Party may speak of openness, but once its power is challenged, it will not hesitate to kill.

This, according to the author, is Deng Xiaoping’s true political legacy.

After June Fourth, the Chinese Communist Party used falsehoods to conceal the truth, censorship to erase memory, surveillance to suppress commemoration, and fear to force people into silence.

For decades, the families of those who died have been unable to mourn publicly.

Survivors have lived under long-term surveillance.

Exiles have been unable to return home.

Within China’s internet censorship system, many members of the younger generation do not even know what happened in Beijing in 1989.

A regime that fears even the names of the dead knows that it is guilty.

A government that bans candles, flowers, and commemorative dates demonstrates that its rule rests upon blood debt and lies.

Deng Xiaoping’s responsibility for June Fourth cannot be diminished by the passage of time, nor can it be rewritten through the long-term efforts of the Chinese Communist Party’s propaganda machinery.

He was not merely a “great leader who made mistakes in his later years.”

Rather, at a critical moment in history, he chose to use the military to suppress his own people.

He personally dragged China away from a possible path of political reform and back onto the track of authoritarian rule.

He transformed the peaceful demands of students and citizens into a national tragedy marked by bloodshed.

Opening fire on unarmed students and civilians is an unforgivable crime.

Using tanks to crush the people’s hope for freedom is an unforgivable crime.

Afterward, continuing to vilify the victims and praise those who carried out the suppression is an even more unforgivable crime.

June Fourth is a blood debt that the Chinese Communist Party can never wash away.

As the ultimate decision-maker, Deng Xiaoping must be nailed to the pillar of historical shame.

He was not a reformer of Chinese democracy.

He was the destroyer of China’s opportunity for democracy.

He was not a national hero.

He was, according to the author’s judgment, a betrayer of the nation who suppressed his own people.

He was not a great man worthy of commemoration.

He was the Butcher of June Fourth and a sinner before history.

History may be temporarily concealed by the Chinese Communist Party, but it can never be buried forever.

One day, the names of those who died will be openly remembered.

One day, responsibility for the killings will be pursued.

June Fourth is not merely a matter of the past.

It is a truth that the Chinese people must still confront.

To forget June Fourth is to tolerate massacre.

To glorify Deng Xiaoping is to insult the dead.

So long as responsibility for the bloodshed at Tiananmen has not been established, the historical judgment of Deng Xiaoping as the “Butcher of June Fourth” can never be changed.

Editor: Zhong Ran

Proofreader: Wang Bin

Translator: Shen Meihua