Tufts students had the opportunity to see photographs that had been hidden from the world for over 25 years as this year's TILIP symposium kicked off Jan. 2.
Li Zhengsheng, a photojournalist who worked for a regional Chinese newspaper during the Cultural Revolution, presented photographs from his book "Red-Color News Soldier," and - with the help of a translator - told the stories behind them to a full crowd of both Tufts and Chinese university students.
During the 1960s, Li meticulously documented the social and political movements that swept across communist China, but had to hide any of those photos that could be construed as unsupportive of the Communist Party.
Though forced to hide parts of his work, Li kept all of his untouched negatives carefully preserved. Jacques Menasche, a journalist who worked with Li on his book, spoke briefly about the process Li went through to preserve his work.
Menasche introduced Li as "the man who was able, through many strokes of courage, bravery and whimsical thinking, to put together this work and preserve it for 40 years all so that it could reach your eyes."
"There are many places in the world where you cannot see these images," he said.
Menasche said that at the end of each day of shooting, Li would go through his negatives and cut out any which might be seen as controversial. He then carefully explained and documented events with dated captions.
After placing these negatives in a small pouch, Li buried them under the floorboards in his house and covered that section of floor with the end of a table. For 20 years, no one knew his secret.
As an example of the severity of Communist censorship, Li showed a rather innocuous-looking picture of Chinese citizens rallying in favor of the Communist party. The crowd held up portraits of Mao and waved flags.
Addressing the Chinese in the audience at Tufts, Li asked if they could tell what in the photo was "wrong" or could be construed as contrary to the Party.
One student pointed out that the fist of one protestor, although emphatically waved in support, was blocking part of Mao Zedong's portrait.
Li nodded in agreement, but probed the audience further before they realized the photograph's "more serious" taboo: The red frame around Mao's portrait appeared black in the black-and-white photograph.
Li said that even something as illogical as this could be seized by party officials as evidence of disloyalty.
Li whitewashed the picture frame that appeared in his photograph before it was published. In the same photograph, he had to use a pen to eliminate part of a banner that was partially blocked by another flag, causing one of the Chinese characters in the communist party slogan to appear as if it said, "cow."
During the question and answer period that followed Li's presentation, the photojournalist snapped pictures with a digital camera while discussing the past, present and future of China.
"I would say that Chinese journalism right now has made a lot of progress compared to that during the Cultural Revolution," Li said, "But there is still a long way to go to meet the requirement of the people, because journalism right now is not a watchdog for people in China, but it is rather a mouthpiece for the people in the party. This is a cruel reality."
Li also expressed sadness that the photos of his country could not be published there.
"I feel both happy and miserable when I know that this book has been translated into many languages," he said. "I feel miserable because the only language that the book would not be translated into would be Chinese."
Li's love for his country was evident during the presentation. Pointing out the Chinese flag lapel on his jacket, Li said that he hoped the work he had done would help to improve his native government's tolerance of a free press.
Trying to explain his conflicting sentiments to an American audience, Li made a reference to the popular bumper stickers in the U.S. that say, "I love my country but I hate my government."
"I am a Chinese citizen," Li said. "I love China."
