Hong Kong's Uprising

  • Using a specific issue as pretext for a general protest is a classic Chinese political tactic. The 1989 protests that led to the Tiananmen massacre began with a memorial gathering for Hu Yaobang, the disgraced Chinese Communist Party General Secretary. Last week's huge march in Hong Kong against new antisubversion laws (known as Article 23) fit the pattern — with crowds estimated at 500,000, it was the largest pro-democracy protest in China since 1989--as does a rally planned for this week at the city's Legislative Council offices. "It's not just about Article 23," notes Allen Lee, a Hong Kong delegate to China's National People's Congress. "Hong Kong people want democracy."

    This, naturally, has Beijing alarmed. China's leaders have backed Chief Executive Tung Chee-hwa because they believed he could keep Hong Kong in its place. And until now, the city's faux Parliament could be counted on to rubber-stamp any legislation put forward by his administration. But Tung has lately mishandled a string of crises — economic, epidemiological (SARS hit the city hard) and now a constitutional one — thereby politicizing Hong Kong and becoming a liability to Beijing.

    Though Tung announced halfhearted concessions to the crowds, including the scrapping of provisions giving police arbitrary powers to enter homes, he has not addressed the underlying crisis of confidence in his government. His concessions failed to go far enough, provoking a sharp public reaction. Even Hong Kong's popular former Chief Secretary Anson Chan broke her usual queenly reticence. "Both the government and the Legislative Council have demonstrated that they were not responsive to community aspirations," she stated. "It almost seems as if they're daring the people to take to the streets."

    Tung's troubles could quickly become Beijing's. "Because the Chinese leadership backed Tung," notes Shi Yinhong, a political scientist at People's University in Beijing, "the standing of the central government itself is on the line." Hong Kong's chief has made his city emblematic of a smoldering Chinese issue: the funereal pace of political reform.