As we mark another year since the events of June 4, 1989, we find ourselves not only honoring the courage of those who stood in Tiananmen Square, but also turning our attention to a generation shaped not by direct memory, but by inheritance, absence, and rediscovery. This is the second generation of the June Fourth movement—young people born in the aftermath of the crackdown, who are now confronting its legacy in profoundly personal and political ways.
Their transformation into keepers of memory, interpreters of trauma, and creators of new narratives is one of the most significant developments in the post-Tiananmen era. And it deserves reflection.
The Legacy of Silence and the Weight of Memory
For many in this generation, the path toward June Fourth did not begin with facts—it began with silence.
They grew up in households where the subject was taboo. Some heard whispers behind closed doors; others encountered gaps in their education that made them question what they weren’t being taught. In Mainland China, state censorship ensured that the movement was erased from textbooks, public discourse, and even digital search results. In Hong Kong, where space for remembrance once existed, annual vigils and discussions have now been criminalized.
And yet, in these silences, many began asking the very questions the state tried to suppress: What really happened? Why did no one ever talk about it? Who decides what history is allowed to say?
For children of exiled activists, the legacy took on an even more complicated form—part pride, part burden. Some were raised by parents who had risked everything for democracy. Others grew up with fathers or mothers who were jailed, surveilled, or driven into exile for participating in student protests. These stories, often passed down unevenly or reluctantly, carried a mixture of trauma and conviction. And now, this second generation is deciding what to do with them.
From Inheritance to Action
What we’re witnessing today is not a simple act of remembrance—it’s a process of reclamation and reinvention.
The second generation is no longer content with merely lighting candles once a year. They are reinterpreting June Fourth on their own terms—through art, digital archives, anonymous publishing, oral history projects, podcasts, and protests that merge old wounds with new causes.
They are not shaped by 1989 alone. They are shaped by 2014 in Hong Kong, by 2022 and the White Paper Movement, by the loss of civil liberties, by the tightening grip of authoritarianism, by COVID lockdowns, surveillance, and a world where historical truth is constantly contested.
They draw connections between past and present—between the students who stood in Tiananmen and the youth who protested at universities across China with blank sheets of paper, symbolizing the voices they’ve been denied.
The Global Struggle to Remember
The story of June Fourth is no longer contained within China’s borders. The second generation has taken the memory into exile, into diaspora, into the cloud.
In Canada, Germany, the United States, and Taiwan, they are building digital memorials, creating bilingual content for a global audience, and making June Fourth part of a broader human rights discourse. Some, like those behind the China Unofficial Archives, are organizing scattered pieces of banned literature, declassified documents, and eyewitness accounts into accessible collections that preserve what others are trying to destroy.
They are not just preserving the past—they are challenging future erasure.
In this global context, remembering June Fourth has become an act of transnational resistance. It is no longer just about one night of violence. It’s about the systems that enable forgetting—and the courage it takes to fight back with truth.
New Questions, Honest Reflections
To be clear, this generation is not uncritical. Many are asking hard questions about the 1989 movement itself. Why were the voices of women and workers marginalized? Was the movement too idealistic or too naive? Could it have taken a different course?
This kind of reflection isn’t betrayal—it’s maturity. It shows that the second generation isn’t blindly adopting the legacy of June Fourth. They are interrogating it, learning from it, and using it to sharpen their understanding of democracy, justice, and accountability today.
They are moving beyond nostalgia, toward something far more difficult and valuable: truth in its full complexity.
Why This Matters Now
In today’s world, where authoritarianism is gaining ground and disinformation is widespread, the battle over historical memory is more urgent than ever. What happened on June 4, 1989, is not just a matter of history—it is a warning, a symbol, and a call to action.
As older generations pass on, it falls to this new generation to decide what parts of the story survive. And judging by their work, their creativity, and their determination, the future of June Fourth remembrance is in capable hands.
They are not just keeping the memory alive. They are giving it new life—infused with fresh meaning, wider perspective, and fierce resolve.
In This Issue
In honor of this transformation, this edition of the China Unofficial Archives is dedicated to the voices, works, and reflections of the second generation. You’ll find:
- New commentary from young historians and researchers
- Multimedia exhibits exploring June Fourth’s legacy in contemporary activism
- Previously unpublished reflections from children of 1989 protestors
- Critical analyses connecting June Fourth to recent movements like the White Paper protests
Conclusion: From Memory to Movement
The second generation of the June Fourth movement is not bound by the past—but they are deeply shaped by it. In their hands, remembrance becomes more than ritual. It becomes a platform, a provocation, a promise. They are not simply echoing what was lost in 1989; they are redefining what it means to fight for dignity and democratic values in the present.
They understand that memory is not just about commemoration—it’s a battleground. A place where state power seeks to erase, dilute, or distort, and where truth must be defended with creativity, clarity, and care. This generation has taken up that task with courage. Through art, technology, language, and scholarship, they are reimagining how the story of Tiananmen is told—and why it still matters.
As authoritarianism tightens its grip in China and beyond, and as historical revisionism creeps into textbooks, public discourse, and digital platforms, the work of remembering becomes even more urgent. The second generation stands at this intersection—between the fading voices of the past and the uncertain challenges of the future. And what they’re building is not just a memory of resistance, but a living movement for justice.
Their journey is just beginning. And it deserves our attention, our support, and our solidarity.
We are honored to share their voices—and committed to preserving their legacy, just as they preserve the legacy of those who stood in Tiananmen Square 36 years ago.
