“Students, we came too late. We are sorry. You talk about us and criticize us; that is entirely justified. I have not come here to ask for your forgiveness.
What I want to say is that you are now extremely weak. Your hunger strike has entered its seventh day, and you cannot continue like this. A prolonged hunger strike can cause irreversible damage to your health and may even endanger your lives. The most important thing now is to bring the hunger strike to an end.
I know that through this hunger strike you hope the Party and the government will give you a satisfactory response to the issues you have raised. I believe the channels for dialogue remain open. Some questions require time and a process before they can be resolved.
You are still young, with many years ahead of you. You should live healthy lives and see the day when China achieves the Four Modernizations. You are not like us. We are already old; what happens to us no longer matters in the same way.
Finally, I once again urge you to think calmly about the future. There are many problems that can ultimately be resolved. I hope you will end the hunger strike as soon as possible. Thank you.”
Zhao Ziyang's final appearance in Tiananmen Square revealed the depth of his break with the hard-line course adopted by China's senior leadership. His appeal to the hunger-striking students reflected both personal concern for their safety and his conviction that the political crisis should be resolved through dialogue rather than coercion. Although Zhao did not endorse all of the protesters' demands and remained committed to Communist Party rule, his willingness to acknowledge their grievances and oppose the use of force distinguished him sharply from the leaders who favored martial law.
That position brought his political career to an abrupt end. After the military crackdown of June 3–4, Zhao was formally removed as General Secretary and from his other senior Party positions later that month. He was succeeded by Jiang Zemin, then the Party secretary of Shanghai, who was elevated to the national leadership as the Communist Party sought to restore unity and stability after the crisis.
Zhao never returned to political life. For the remaining fifteen and a half years of his life, he lived under varying degrees of house arrest and political isolation in Beijing. His movements, visitors, and public contacts were tightly restricted, although the severity of those restrictions varied over time. He continued privately to challenge the official verdict on the 1989 movement and called for its reassessment, but his appeals were rejected. He died on January 17, 2005, without having been politically rehabilitated.
His treatment after death demonstrated the continuing political sensitivity surrounding his legacy. Zhao received a tightly controlled memorial and was cremated in 2005, but his family was unable to secure a mutually acceptable permanent burial site for many years. His ashes remained with his family rather than being permanently interred. Only on October 18, 2019—more than fourteen years after his death—were Zhao's ashes finally buried alongside those of his wife, Liang Boqi, at Tianshou Garden cemetery on the outskirts of Beijing, following prolonged negotiations between the family and the authorities.
Zhao's fate became one of the most enduring symbols of the political rupture of 1989. While China's market-oriented economic reforms resumed and accelerated during the decades that followed, the movement toward substantial political liberalization that Zhao had supported was halted. He consequently came to represent, for many reform-minded Chinese and observers abroad, an alternative path within the Communist system—one that sought greater institutional restraint, political openness, and dialogue while preserving the Party's governing role.
His legacy is therefore more complex than that of a simple "pro-democracy" dissident. Zhao remained a Communist reformer until the end, but at the decisive moment of 1989 he refused to endorse a political solution based on military force. His removal, prolonged isolation, and continued official marginalization transformed him from one of China's most powerful leaders into a symbol of the reformist possibilities that disappeared with the Tiananmen crackdown.