Someone asked me today how I stay positive.
Answer: I don’t.
But: I refuse to give up.
And I refuse to let others give up.
Which means that, together, slowly, persistently, we can create hope
Over & over again.
#keepgoing
Weaving together various observations and musings -- usually pertaining to aspects of Hong Kong (life) but sometimes beyond.
Someone asked me today how I stay positive.
Answer: I don’t.
But: I refuse to give up.
And I refuse to let others give up.
Which means that, together, slowly, persistently, we can create hope
Over & over again.
#keepgoing
First they came for the protesters
Then the legislators
Then the media
Then the lawyers and speech therapists
Then the trade unionists
Make no mistake about it: Hong Kong's civil society groups are crumbling. The HKCTU's impending disbandment comes amid growing pressure from Chinese-backed media on the city’s unions and mounting national security probes on pro-democracy civil society groups. And earlier this evening came news that the HKCTU's Chief Executive, Mung Siu-tat, has left Hong Kong for the United Kingdom after, in his words, "A strong power forced me to make a painful choice between being a chief executive and being a father".
As was noted in the Hong Kong Free Press's piece about the HKCTU disbanding: "Pressure on pro-democracy groups which have long been part of the city’s social fabric has prompted critics to accuse Hong Kong authorities of using the security law to dismantle civil society [but] Carrie Lam has denied such an intention." This is in keeping with the line she's taken that that there's been no dismantling of civil society in Hong Kong taking place since the implementation of the national security law, which she told the United Nations back on June 30th, 2019, would affect only an "extremely small minority of people". But when the HKCTU's membership alone numbers some 145,000, I think it should be plenty clear that this is not the case at all.
Police raids on movie screenings — unimaginable in Hong Kong a few years ago — are the latest reality in Beijing’s relentless suppression of the territory’s civil liberties. For filmmakers like Chow, 42, they are a sign of how China’s grip on Hong Kong is not only about asserting political control but also suffocating the cultural spaces where art can reflect truth and build solidarity in a society.“They are afraid of art, of people making connections, of organizations and groups — because essentially, they are afraid of the people,” Chow said. “We were having a conversation about art and humanity, sharing our lives, building a relationship. They are tearing it down.”
Another Hong Kong filmmaker (and former dean of film and television at the Hong Kong Academy for Performing Arts), Shu Kei, also was interviewed for, and features in, the article. It's not just what he is recorded as saying that's noteworthy but also what his comments imply:
“Films serve as a social record, or even a record of a nation,” said Shu. He loves watching Cantonese films from the 1940s and ’50s, he said, because they capture how Hong Kong was — and who its people were — at a moment in time.“It reminds me of my childhood. It also depicts a collective memory,” Shu said. The suppression of films about the last few years, when millions of Hong Kongers rose up in a massive protest movement that was then brutally crushed, is also an attempt to suppress that collective memory and identity.
Hongkongers—from opposition politicians to teachers to civic activists and students—all made the mistake of choosing to believe in the 1984 Sino-British Joint Declaration. That agreement paved the way for the city’s 1997 handover from British to Chinese sovereignty under a “one country, two systems” arrangement that for at least 50 years was supposed to guarantee Hong Kong “a high degree of autonomy” as well as personal freedoms for its citizens that are simply nonexistent on the mainland.
These freedoms—of speech, press and assembly—were then enshrined in the Basic Law, Hong Kong’s mini-constitution, which also promised a gradual progress toward democracy that, like those guarantees of personal freedom, now seems dead in the water...
[O]vert demonstrations of freedom of expression and tolerance for dissent were part of what made post-handover Hong Kong such a special city in China. They were not unpatriotic. To the contrary, for many Hongkongers, they represented the highest form of patriotism—the kind that strives to build a better city and better country and, yes, squawks and agitates when that does not happen...
The crackdown on Hong Kong freedoms... —now putatively justified by a sweeping national security law that seems to mean anything authorities want it to mean—has been a gross overreaction to a peril that never really existed. It betrays the deep-seated, abiding insecurity of Chinese officialdom, which sees destabilising foreign forces hiding in every nook and cranny of Hong Kong.