Television Puts Real Power at Innocent End of a Gun

That power begins at the barrel of a gun has been proven again during the recent turmoil in China. But television has given an odd twist to Mao Tse-tung’s famous remark: Those who face the barrel of a gun gain power in television’s eyes, for the image favors anyone who appears innocent to the home viewer.

The lone white-shirted protester who confronted the tank in Tian An Men Square wielded tremendous power, precisely because he advanced unarmed. No one who glimpsed that unforgettable scene could--at the moment of viewing--fail to side with the students against the government. For at that moment, we were in the realm of drama as much as history.

In drama, we identify with characters who represent us in one fashion or another. Who can identify with a tank? Who feels represented by an armored personnel carrier? No one, of course, which is the problem television creates for leaders who decide to call in the military. Relying on weapons, the government is helpless in a battle of images. Relying on helplessness, citizens have a weapon no government can match; the image of human frailty about to confront a faceless power.

This reversal of fortunes, in which the unarmed have a clear advantage, was not enough to determine the outcome of events in China. Mao’s maxim retained its traditional meaning as the army took command of Tian An Men Square behind the barrels of guns and tanks. But the costs of asserting control in such a violent manner are higher than ever, in part because of the difficulty of concealing the deed.

Every TV viewer who watched in horror as the troops opened fire helps guarantee that the violence will pass into history as a crime committed by a government against its own people. In this sense, we at home were more than spectators; we were witnesses. Each of us can testify about what happened on the night of June 3. But there is more. Television not only delivers us to the scene of violence; it delivers, as well, the knowledge that many millions have witnessed the same scene. To watch a military crackdown on TV is to know that countless others are watching--horrified at a safe distance, spellbound by their nearness to the event.

The political importance of our collective viewing has already been demonstrated. Liberal Rep. Stephen J. Solarz (D-N.Y.) and conservative Sen. Jesse Helms, (R-N.C.), who rarely agree, both immediately called for a halt in the sale of military equipment to China. President Bush had little choice but to agree. The power of the image to unite emotions had overcome an ideological divide. Bush’s executive order suspending the sales and subsequent actions were thus acknowledgements of TV’s influence in events. It demonstrated to the nation that the President, too, was watching--that he saw what we saw, and dwelt in the same moral universe.

As expected, the Chinese government has put forward its own version of events, in which the troops were the victims and the students the aggressors. This effort to undo the deed only demonstrates the weakness of the military against unarmed opposition. So powerful has the image of powerlessness become that everyone tries to claim it, even the military.

The Beijing government may succeed in confusing its own people, in suppressing dissent and punishing student leaders, but outside of China its failure is assured. The rewriting of history has become vastly more difficult now that television etches that history into so many minds at home. Mao never had to confront such a fact. If he had, he might have coined a new phrase: Power begins at the barrel of a lens.