So what happened to Hong Kong?
In 2002 Hong Kong ranked 18th in the World Press Freedom Index. In 2024, it drops staggeringly to 140th, out of 180 countries.
Pan-democrat politicians, activists, protesters and journalists are either locked up, waiting for a trial or exiled. Freedom of assembly, too, has disappeared in merely two years' time. It pains to see no more candlelight vigil on 4th June, and mass rally on 1st July.
If you walk in the street, things look normal. People bustle around, stoically efficient under the clammy heat, busy with catching a bus, a deadline, a quick bite. But they have stopped talking about politics or how things deteriorated, even in private. After the collective emotional turmoil in 2019, and three wearisome years with covid, one learns that leaving the bleak and broken undiscussed is a useful tactic, if not a survival skill.
I left Hong Kong in early 2018. For a long time I loathed the culture and values of this city. The greedy and hollow consumerism. The cheesy, cloying canto pop. The pretentious artsy projects funded by corporate money imitating arts. The barren reading culture. The scandalous wealth gap between investment bankers and street cleaners, walking down the same street. The worship of material wealth and following such logic, the worship of money-making jobs. The expedient goal of women finding marriageable men i.e. those amassing material wealth. People's mindless selfies at a scenic spot, that nature is no more than a pretty backdrop for them to prove their brief existence, exposing their insecurity and loneliness. And the willy nilly pan-democrats only squabbled with pro-Beijing loyalists, tinkered with the edges without truly improving working people’s material lives. I'd had enough of submissiveness and superficiality enshrined as the 'Hong Kong values'.
I never liked the candlelight vigil to commemorate the Tiananmen massacre. I thought it was little more than gesture politics, a cheap show for people to feel they’ve done something meaningful. I called it empty participation. And the speakers retold the same distant memories in 1989. Harrowing memories. But year after year of rehashing the message “Never forget June fourth", I got weary and sceptical: Is that all what people want? Sitting in Victoria Park with a lit candle and making sure other people know they’ve gone to the vigil?
I was not emotionally invested in local politics. The pan-democrats were too ready to compromise for less, and over the years they became out of touch with young people’s demands; the establishment were rightwing ideologues, Beijing's yes men, plus a few buffoons; the new generation of pro-independence camp were full of silly headlong passion, some of which only wanted to point a middle finger to the establishment. Living in my reclusive head I found Hong Kong politics messy, garrulous and futile, rife with self interest.
When I left Hong Kong I thought the city was full of intractable problems and flaws. For I was living in a little bubble of cynicism, criticising 'nobody was right', but feared of doing anything myself. My overblown disdain for the rotten things about the city masked the good qualities: the freedom to question and disagree, the collective readiness to come out to the street if only to show a stance, the unsung resilience and resourcefulness of the working people, and the solidarity that shined through in small acts of kindness, the quiet struggle of small businesses continuing their dying craft, the opinionated Apple Daily being equally good at social critique and click-bait content. I did see them, but I insolently took everything for granted. 'Hong Kong will always be here. Maybe one day—one day I will go back.'
Now, I realise the free market doctrine did create a stark wealth gap, but even with the tyranny of financial violence, people could still complain, argue, criticise and organise.
Some good things are still there, a handful of citizens keep up with their small courageous acts of resistance. People try to do what they feel right with what they can. You see them if you pay close attention. A poster in an obscure corner in a café, a subtle slogan on a tote bag, a one-man media run by an ex-Stand News reporter. But these are what remains after four years of systematic political purge. The free spirit has been obliterated by the liberal use of brute force, raids and arrests, backed by the all encompassing national security law. A blanket of fear befogs the city, people keep their mouth shut and toe the line.
Imagine a superb formula of carrot and stick: financial sweeteners, ideological indoctrination, social engineering, mind-numbing entertainment, digital surveillance and iron fist crackdown—a hybrid of 1984 and Brave New World. Hong Kong is not fully there yet: housing is still a problem, social media is not banned, but it’s getting there. Things could always get worse; it hurts to see when it does.