I'm listening to the BBC radio reports this morning, commemorating the anniversary of the Tiananmen Square massacre, and I'm thinking about the irrepressible human urge to self-express. I'm thinking about students and courage, and I'm thinking about how, in Beijing today, it's a day like any other. I've walked through Tiananmen in the early morning, seen the flag being raised. It was odd, superimposing my understanding, my mental "augmented reality data" across the screen of my vision. I wondered how many other people -- tourists, Chinese citizens -- were doing the same.
Can such a memory really be eliminated? Can realtime events be wiped off the global cranium after the fact anymore? Here in my London living room, I'm listening to the recorded protest singing of those students, time-shifted through the years and the radio. It's like it's happening right now.
But what good is it for me to hear and remember? Perhaps we are the story-holders, the memory-protectors, of other countries and systems that are prevented from owning their own narrative. Is it our right to do so, or our duty?
