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Tiananmen Without the Tanks – The 1980s China Wants to Remember

It is commonly known that 1989 Tiananmen is forgotten in Chinese history books, but what is actually described instead?

Manya Koetse

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On the 25th anniversary of the violent crackdown of the Tiananmen student demonstrations, all eyes are on China.

International media revisit the history of the protests that started in April 1989, and ended with the violent governmental crackdown on June 4th. Foreign news reports zoom in on China’s  ‘Tiananmen amnesia,’ and describe how the Chinese government has effectively removed ‘4/6’ from collective memory.

By now, it is widely known that the Tiananmen student protests, that have become an emblem of China’s 1980s outside the nation, are not something that the Party wants to go down in China’s history books to pass on to the next generations.

The 1980s are the main theme in this year’s best-selling book The 1980s, My Homeland (Wo de Guxiang Zai Bashi Niandai, 我的故乡在八十年代), published by New Weekly (新周刊). The book is a compilation of columns by various authors about the 80s era, its main events and historical meaning.

This is a book with a historical and sociological perspective on China’s 1980s decade, and yet, not a word is written on what is commonly perceived as one of its major events: the 1989 student protests on Tiananmen.

When the book lists ‘China’s Main Events in 1989’, this is what is summed up:

1. February 2nd. Gun sounds in China’s Art Gallery “China’s Contemporary Art Exhibition”: female artist Xiao Luchao’s self-made work ‘Dialogue’ connected two operating guns.

2. April 15. The former general secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party, Hu Yaobang, passes away. Soon after, people organize activities in Beijing and all over the country to mourn.

3. April 26. The ‘People’s Daily’ publishes an editorial titled ‘We have to stand up against unrest’.

4. May 15. Gorbachov, the general secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, visits China and is welcomed with a ceremony at the airport. Sino-Soviet relations are restored.

5. June 23. The 13th plenary session of the Communist Party is held in Beijing. Jiang Zemin is named general secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of China.

6. August 24th, the Communist Party and the State Council calls together the media, publishers and audiovisual market and decide to hold another ‘anti-pornography campaign’.

7. September 7th. The Party’s organizational ministry stipulates that members of the ministerial units need to register again.

8. November 9. The Party’s plenary session comes to an end. Deng Xiaoping resigns as the chairman of the Central Military Commission, and Jiang Zemin takes his place.

9. December 2nd. Taiwan lifts the ban and holds the first government offficial elections” (28-29).

The book also includes a ‘1980s alfabet.’ Tiananmen, nor the students, are part of it.

But Tiananmen does play a role in the book- on its cover is a picture from 1981, taken by photographer Liu Xiangcheng, depicting dozens of students sitting down at the square, reading books. The description says that the 1980s era is collectively remembered as the ‘decade of poetry’ (‘诗意的年代’).

Another image shows a happy smiling man drinking a 0.45 RMB bottle of Coca-Cola. An image covering two pages is one of Beijing University students on Tiananmen Square in 1984, carrying banners saying “Hello, Xiaoping!” The event took place on National Day (October 1st), the 35th anniversary of the People’s Republic of China. The students paraded the square and unexpectedly unfurled a banner that greeted top leader Deng Xiaoping in an informal way.

These are memories that are collectively treasured- those of students reading Chinese poetry and greeting the nation’s leader from Tiananmen- no tanks in sight.

Nevertheless, the book does carry a less cheerful tone. Editor Feng Xincheng says:

The 1980s era launched a generation and even this nation. But the outcome is that the people who set out in the 1980s are now scattered in all directions. In this nation, more and more people have lost their roots. They do not even dare to dream about their spiritual foundation. People are always on the move- they are going so far that they have long forgotten why they set out in the first place” (1).

The 1980s are described as a nostalgic place, an era that holds the ‘soul’ of contemporary China: “The ‘soul’ is in the 1980s, the ‘brains’ are in the 1990s, the ‘body’ is in the contemporary era” (1).

According to Ma Junchi, the ‘human’ was most important in the eighties (2)- the author writes about the courage and vigor of people in this era.

No matter how much the Tiananmen demonstrations are not mentioned in this book, its marks can be found in between the lines. The book opens with a Bei Dao poem on the first page that speaks for itself.

Then we had dreams,

about literature,

about love,

about travelling the world.

Nowadays we have late night drinks,

and the clinking of our glasses,

is the sound of shattered dreams

–       Bei Dao (own translation)

 

-by Manya Koetse

 

References

Zhou Ke 周可(ed). 2014. Wo de Guxiang Zai Bashi Niandai 我的故乡在八十年代 [The 1980s, My Homeland] (In Chinese). Beijing: New Weekly 新周刊.

 

Manya Koetse is a sinologist, writer, and public speaker specializing in China’s social trends, digital culture, and online media ecosystems. She founded What’s on Weibo in 2013 and now runs the Eye on Digital China newsletter. Learn more at manyakoetse.com or follow her on X, Instagram, or LinkedIn.

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China Insight

Blame Games & Bad Signs: Nepal–Tibet Floods, Huawei’s Toilet Trouble, “Screwed” Graduates

How the Nepal–Tibet floods are being discussed on Chinese social media. From solidarity and sadness over Gyirong to censorship and anger at Taiwanese, Indian, and Western media.

Manya Koetse

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Welcome back to China Trend Watch (Week 34–35 | 2026), my regular tour through the latest trends, memes, and debates driving conversation across Chinese social media. I’m Manya Koetse, a sinologist specializing in Chinese digital culture.

 

In this edition:

  • Teachers get shamed for their students’ bad grades
  • Why the Nepal–Tibet floods sparked arguments about blame, BBC reporting, and Chinese censorship
  • Huawei doesn’t appreciate viral toilet humor
  • Dads are carrying mattresses into Peking University
  • Chinese graduates are getting “screwed” by a million-dollar company

 


 

🗞️ QUICK SCROLLS

 

🧑‍🏫 A teacher “shame photo” taken at a local education meeting in Liangshan, Sichuan, has sparked nationwide outrage. A group of primary school teachers was forced to pose in front of a giant “SHAME” sign because their classes’ average final exam scores were below 30. “This isn’t merely ‘shame’—it’s outright public humiliation,” one commenter wrote. Liangshan’s education bureau confirmed the photo was real and said it was “puzzled” by the practice; the Leibo County government has apologized and launched an investigation.

 

Teachers lined up in front of a big screen that says: “Group photo of primary-school teachers whose classes averaged below 30 points in the 2025–2026 end-of-year examinations”

 

🥬 “Chemical cabbages” (药水白菜) or “formaldehyde cabbages” (甲醛白菜) have been a major topic on Chinese social media after a Chinese investigative vlogger captured workers in Kangbao, Hebei, dipping cabbages into formaldehyde solution before loading them onto trucks. This procedure, which allegedly adds 2–3 extra days of shelf life, is illegal: formaldehyde is a Group 1 carcinogen.

🍫 It’s been a bad week for Mars-owned chocolate brand Dove. A marketing campaign suggesting that a girl received a box of chocolates from a man she was flirting with while her boyfriend was away (“趁男友不在”) drew anger online. Then the brand’s apology also became a massive failure: when it was flagged as 100% AI-generated, Chinese netizens had little sympathy left for the brand.

💸 A “century-old” shark fin soup served by a Shanghai restaurant for no less than 4,800 yuan (US$715) per bowl (!) has gone viral for its exorbitant price and claims that it has been “simmering for more than 100 years,” since the late Qing dynasty. There was plenty of skepticism about the soup, but also disbelief that anyone would spend an ordinary person’s entire monthly living budget on a single bowl of soup.

👩‍💻 An eighth-grader from Shanghai earned 18,000 yuan (US$2,678) in three days using AI. Despite her limited programming experience, the 13-year-old placed third in a marketing hackathon, where teams had 48 hours to develop and market an entire AI product. She launched a study-companion app called “Being There” (在场) that 92 people bought. Although Chinese media praised her, commenters were critical, suggesting she received help from her mother, an influencer on Douyin.

💍 In an aging society where marriage rates have AGAIN dropped, more and more places are making it easier than ever to tie the knot. Registration services are popping up in…

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The Power of Ugly: Why Niu Lai Became China’s Unlikeliest Box-Office Hit

How the two-person animated film Niu Lai turned its “ugly” visuals, dreamcore nostalgia, and remarkable cinema journey into a nationwide participatory meme.

Manya Koetse

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A mother-and-son duo’s animated 3D film earned just 342 yuan ($US50) on opening day. Then its crude visuals turned it into a viral success, propelling it into the top ten of the year’s domestic animated releases. A meaningless ‘miracle’ or sign of shifting cultural sentiments? An explainer.

Something extraordinary has happened in Chinese cinemas this month. A tiny animated film about a yellow cow on a dreamlike adventure opened in a few hundred Chinese theaters on August 5, 2026, with zero promotion and no trailer. On its first day, the movie’s box office revenue totaled just 342 yuan (US$50).

Nobody could have expected that this microbudget indie movie, initially playing to empty seats, would become a nationwide viral hit—not because people thought it was good, but because they found it so aesthetically ugly.

The 86-minute 3D animation is titled Niu Lai (牛来, literally “Here Comes the Cow/The Cow Comes”). It was produced by just two people from Dalian: 34-year-old Xin Yumeng (信雨萌) and his mother, Sun Lifang (孙丽芳). The pair spent five years making it.

The plot follows a young calf named Niu Lai, who is too afraid to stand. In his dreams, he befriends a skylark and a young leopard on a sometimes-scary adventure, during which he grows up, loses his mother in a wolf attack, and eventually wakes up with new life lessons.

Despite being complete newcomers to the film industry, Xin and his mother handled everything themselves, from directing and writing to animation, voice acting, and music—theirs were the only two names in the end credits.

They registered the script in 2021 and, after passing the content review, received a public-screening permit in 2024. The narrative contained no apparent sensitivities, and all the paperwork was in order. A film distributor they knew reportedly helped them secure screenings at a few hundred cinemas (even though, after seeing the film’s quality, he had advised them against a theatrical release).

Around August 13-14, the movie went viral when a few netizens who saw it shared their disbelief at the primitive visuals, which contrasted sharply with the…

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