It's abnormal when people monitor you when you are saying or doing something
Thirty-seven years after soldiers opened fire on protesters in Tiananmen Square, a Hong Kong artist carrying a 6.4-meter red thread was stopped by plainclothes police before he could tie it to a signpost — a gesture so quiet it might have gone unnoticed anywhere else. That it did not go unnoticed speaks to how completely the space for public memory has contracted in a city that was once, uniquely, permitted to grieve openly. What Hong Kong is losing is not merely a ritual, but the freedom to mourn — and with it, a particular kind of civic dignity.
- On the 37th anniversary of the Tiananmen massacre, artist Sanmu Chen was intercepted by plainclothes officers before he could complete a symbolic act so subtle it consisted only of tying a thread to a pole.
- A second artist, Chan Mei-tung, was escorted away from a nearby storefront for holding a question-mark-shaped balloon — neither was arrested, but the surveillance itself was the warning.
- Hong Kong once held the largest annual Tiananmen vigils outside mainland China; those gatherings have been banned since 2020, and the organization that ran them for thirty years has been dismantled.
- Three former vigil organizers now face subversion charges under the national security law, with two awaiting verdicts that could carry up to a decade in prison.
- What remains of public commemoration has been driven into code — numbers traced in the air, measured lengths of thread, balloons shaped like questions — and even that is now met with police intervention.
On a Wednesday morning in Causeway Bay, performance artist Sanmu Chen approached a street signpost carrying a length of red thread — 6.4 meters, a deliberate echo of June 4th, the date in 1989 when the Chinese military crushed weeks of student-led protest in Tiananmen Square, killing hundreds, possibly thousands. He intended only to tie it there. Plainclothes officers stopped him before he could.
The act was small. The weight behind it was not. For decades, Hong Kong was the only place in China where mass public commemoration of the 1989 killings was permitted. Tens of thousands gathered each June 4th in Victoria Park by candlelight. That ended in 2020, when the vigils were banned — first under pandemic rules, then effectively under the national security law Beijing imposed following the 2019 protests. The organization that had held those vigils for thirty years was disbanded. Three of its former leaders now face subversion charges; two await verdicts that could mean up to ten years in prison.
Chen is no stranger to this kind of attention. In 2024 he was detained for tracing the numbers 'eight nine six four' in the air. The year before, for chanting a simple message urging Hong Kongers not to forget. On Wednesday, after police searched his bag and questioned him about the thread, he said only that it was meant to express condolences — and that something had gone wrong when a person could be monitored for saying or doing almost anything.
Nearby, another artist, Chan Mei-tung, was escorted away from a department store for holding a question-mark-shaped balloon. Neither was arrested. The intervention itself was the statement. What was once a city-wide act of collective memory has been compressed into coded gestures, measured threads, and the quiet acceptance that even these may draw the state's eye. As the anniversary passed, the US Secretary of State issued a statement honoring the dead. In Hong Kong, the smallest public act of remembrance now carries its own risk.
On Wednesday morning in Causeway Bay, a shopping district in Hong Kong, performance artist Sanmu Chen approached a street signpost with a length of red thread. He intended to tie it there—a quiet, symbolic gesture marking the 37th anniversary of the 1989 Tiananmen Square massacre. He did not get far. Plainclothes police officers stopped him before he could complete the act, searched his bag, and sent him on his way. It was a small confrontation, but it carried the weight of a much larger story: the steady narrowing of what people in Hong Kong can say and do in public without drawing state attention.
The thread itself was 6.4 meters long, a deliberate reference to June 4th—the date when, in 1989, the Chinese military moved into Tiananmen Square to suppress weeks of student-led protests. Soldiers fired live ammunition. Hundreds, possibly thousands, were killed. For decades afterward, Hong Kong remained the only place in China where large-scale public commemoration of those deaths was permitted. Every June 4th, tens of thousands would gather in Victoria Park for candlelight vigils. Those vigils were banned in 2020, during the Covid pandemic, and have not resumed.
Chen is not new to this kind of police attention. In 2024, he was detained on June 3rd after appearing to write the numbers "eight nine six four" in the air with his hand—another coded reference to the date. The year before, he was detained in the same neighborhood after chanting a simple message: "Hong Kongers, do not be afraid. Don't forget, tomorrow is June 4." When police questioned him on Wednesday about the red thread, he explained it was meant to express condolences for those who died. "It's abnormal when people monitor you when you are saying or doing something," he said afterward.
That same morning, another artist, Chan Mei-tung, stood outside a nearby department store holding a question-mark-shaped balloon. Police stopped her too and escorted her to a subway station. Neither artist was arrested, but the message was clear: public acts of remembrance are now treated as matters requiring police intervention.
The shift reflects the broader transformation of Hong Kong since 2020, when Beijing imposed a national security law following massive anti-government protests in 2019. The law was framed as essential to stability. Under it, authorities have arrested leading activists, shut down vocal media outlets, and disbanded dozens of civil society groups—including the organization that had organized the annual vigils for three decades. Three former vigil organizers were charged with inciting subversion. Two are awaiting verdicts, possibly in July; if convicted, they face up to ten years in prison. The third entered a guilty plea.
The Hong Kong and Beijing governments maintain that the security law respects and protects human rights while safeguarding national security. But the pattern on the ground tells a different story. What was once openly commemorated has become something that requires coded gestures, symbolic threads, and the acceptance of police scrutiny. The 1989 crackdown remains intensely sensitive in communist-run China, and that sensitivity now extends fully to Hong Kong. As the 37th anniversary passed, the US Secretary of State Marco Rubio issued a statement honoring those who died and calling out the censorship. But in Hong Kong itself, even the smallest public act of remembrance now carries risk.
Notable Quotes
It's abnormal when people monitor you when you are saying or doing something— Sanmu Chen, performance artist
No amount of censorship can erase the past. Those who sacrificed to uphold their unalienable rights of free expression and peaceful assembly will be vindicated someday.— US Secretary of State Marco Rubio
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does a red thread matter so much that police would stop someone tying it to a signpost?
Because the thread itself is a message. Six point four meters—that's June 4th encoded in length. It's a way of saying something when saying it directly has become dangerous.
But he wasn't arrested. Doesn't that suggest there's still some tolerance?
The tolerance is in the form of surveillance and interruption. You're allowed to exist, but not to act. Not to commemorate. The message isn't "you can do this"—it's "we're watching, and we can stop you whenever we choose."
How did it get to this point so quickly? Hong Kong had vigils for decades.
The national security law changed everything in 2020. It gave authorities the legal framework to treat remembrance as a threat to the state. The vigils were banned during Covid, but they never came back. Now even individual artists are monitored on the anniversary date.
What happens to the people organizing these commemorations if they're caught?
The three former vigil organizers face subversion charges. Two are waiting for verdicts that could mean ten years in prison. That's not a small consequence. It's enough to make most people stop trying.
So the police action on Wednesday—is that effective?
It depends on what you mean by effective. It prevents the thread from being tied. It sends a signal. But it also makes the act itself more visible, more meaningful. Chen's detention becomes part of the story.