Hong Kong unionist Joe Wong had applied for permission to hold a Labor Day march, but canceled his request to police in an abrupt U-turn after he briefly went missing.
He cannot reveal what led to the change of heart, a result of a confidentiality clause in a sweeping national security law Beijing imposed on Hong Kong in 2020 to quell dissent. Three years after the law’s enactment, activists say Hong Kong’s police have stepped up surveillance — pre-emptively discouraging rallies before applications are filed, paying home visits in the lead-up to days seen as politically sensitive and summoning organizers for warning chats.
“It’s impossible to organize any large-scale rally and march now,” fellow labor unionist Denny To said. “It’s certainly a process of taming.”
Photo: AFP
The clampdown on perceived dissent in Hong Kong appears to extend well beyond traditional opposition parties like the League of Social Democrats. It has hit groups like a women’s association and even a Cantonese language preservation association whose founder’s home was searched last month, with police demanding the removal of a fictional essay depicting a dystopian future Hong Kong.
“It appears the striking range has expanded,” said Chan Po-ying, leader of the League of Social Democrats.
For some, police visits have become regular occurrences, according to seven activists.
But details of police conversations cannot be shared due to the law’s confidentiality clause.
“The impacts are invisible,” To said.
In response to queries about new tactics deployed by the national security department, Hong Kong police said they “take appropriate actions... according to the laws.”
‘FOR OUR OWN GOOD’
Semi-autonomous Hong Kong — which enjoys greater freedoms compared to mainland China — once had a vibrant civil society.
It bolstered 2019’s massive and at times violent pro-democracy protest movement.
Since Beijing’s crackdown on dissent, which saw thousands arrested, Hong Kong’s streets have been clear of marchers. Even events like International Women’s Day marches have been dropped.
The Hong Kong Women Workers’ Association had planned its first post-pandemic rally for March 8, receiving permission after applying for it. But three days later, they withdrew their application.
The association is not allowed to say what led to the withdrawal due to the national security law’s confidentiality clause.
Police told reporters safety could not be guaranteed at the march after they saw comments online suggesting the event be “hijacked.”
Four members of the League of Social Democrats were warned not to join the march “for our own good,” Chan told a radio program at the time. One activist said police warned him — as well as a dozen of his acquaintances — against participating.
“Some received phone calls, some had their homes visited by officers carrying a search warrant hinting that if they did not cooperate, they would face more forceful actions,” he said.
Hong Kong leader John Lee has said groups with no “capability... should not organize such public events.”
‘HIGH-RISK DAYS’
Activists have also experienced heightened police attention in the lead-up to two key dates in recent years.
One is June 4, the anniversary of the Tiananmen massacre in Beijing.
The other is July 1, the day Britain handed its former colony back to China 26 years ago.
“I asked why they would come to me... and they said those days were ‘high-risk days,’” one activist whose group is now disbanded said on condition of anonymity.
Prior to the crackdown, massive crowds of people from all walks of life would gather on these two dates every year — an indication of the relative freedom the city enjoyed.
But the annual June 4 vigils were forced to stop, while July 1 this year saw no sign of protests.
“They want you to do nothing,” the activist said, referring to the police. Police have also made appointments to “stay in touch,” said two activists, with interactions ranging from a casual greeting to requests for rally plans.
All the activists said they were told to attend their meetings with police alone.
The check-ins have taken a heavy mental toll, they said.
They described a fear of being followed, as well as worries that meeting friends could unintentionally implicate them too. One said he removed his doorbell as the ringing startled him — a holdover from police visits — and he had nightmares after each meeting.
“I can’t live out my complete self,” another activist said.
Despite the stress, holding fast under pressure is crucial, said Chan, adding “you can’t just sit back.”
One activist said she was focusing on “preserving strength for the future.” “I will try my best not to think about whether something is illegal or sensitive,” she said.
“Instead, we should try to argue that this is our right, and it’s lawful — until they tell us it’s not.”
Taiwan’s overtaking of South Korea in GDP per capita is not a temporary anomaly, but the result of deeper structural problems in the South Korean economy says Chang Young-chul, the former CEO of Korea Asset Management Corp. Chang says that while it reflects Taiwan’s own gains, it also highlights weakening growth momentum in South Korea. As design and foundry capabilities become more important in the AI era, Seoul risks losing competitiveness if it relies too heavily on memory chips. IMF forecasts showing Taiwan widening its lead over South Korea have fueled debate in Seoul over memory chip dependence, industrial policy and
“China wants to unify with Taiwan at the lowest possible cost, and it currently believes that unification will become easier and less costly as time passes,” wrote Amanda Hsiao (蕭嫣然) and Bonnie Glaser in Foreign Affairs (“Why China Waits”) this month, describing how the People’s Republic of China (PRC) is playing the long game in its quest to seize Taiwan. This has been a favorite claim of many writers over the years, easy to argue because it is so trite. Very obviously, if the PRC isn’t attacking Taiwan, it is waiting. But for what? Hsiao and Glaser’s main point is trivial,
May 18 to May 24 Gathered on Yangtou Mountain (羊頭山) on Dec. 5, 1972, Taiwan’s hiking enthusiasts formally declared the formation of the “100 Peaks Club” (百岳俱樂部) and unveiled the final list of mountains. Famed mountaineer Lin Wen-an (林文安) led this effort for the Chinese Alpine Association (中華山岳協會). Working with other experienced climbers, he chose 100 peaks above 10,000 feet (3,048m) that featured triangulation points and varied in difficulty and character. The list sparked an alpine hiking craze, inspiring many to take up mountaineering and competing to “conquer” the summits. A common misconception is that the 100 Peaks represent Taiwan’s 100 tallest
The Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT), alongside their smaller allies the Taiwan People’s Party (TPP), are often accused of acting on behalf of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). Some go so far as to call them “traitors.” It is not hard to see why. They regularly pass legislation to stymie the normal functioning of the ruling Democratic Progressive Party’s (DPP) administration, and they have yet to pass this year’s annual budget. They slashed key elements of the government’s proposed NT$1.25 trillion (US$40 billion) special military budget, and in the smaller NT$780 billion package they did pass, it is riddled with provisions that
RSS