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Title: Black Versus Yellow
Author: ultra
Date: 2015
Language: en
Topics: Hong Kong, Umbrella Movement, Urban Revolt, urban riot, analysis, Occupy, occupations, nationalism, China
Source: http://www.ultra-com.org/project/black-versus-yellow/
Notes: Best English article so far on Hong Kong's "Umbrella Revolution" and its background, limitations, and prospects from a Marxist perspective, based on first-hand research.

ultra

Black Versus Yellow

Thanks to all the friends in Hong Kong who provided first-hand

information and photos for this article.

Part 1: The History

Global City

Itinerant shoppers pose for selfies as the skyline of the finance

district across the bay bursts into a kaleidoscope of green and yellow

lights. Below them, the waters of Victoria Harbor stir quietly,

foreboding a typhoon. Despite the churning water, the nearby cruise ship

hardly seems to move. It is docked to the pier at Tsim Sha Tsui, its

gangplank descending into one of the most luxurious shopping malls in

East Asia, a convenience allowing wealthy visitors from all across the

world the ability to disembark from one climate-controlled environment

to another without ever leaving the safety of AC and well-trained

security. Once off the ship, they can spend money tax-free at the city’s

most fashionable restaurants and retail outlets, eating Japanese BBQ and

then gliding over polished floors to browse retro British outfits at a

boutique marketing 20s-style colonial chic.

Outside on the dock, rain starts to splatter down on the selfie-takers’

outstretched iPhones. A young girl sings old Cantonese pop songs, even

though everyone listens to K-pop now, accompanied by her boyfriend’s

out-of-tune guitar. People drop a few serrated Hong Kong coins into

their donation jar. The wind begins to pick up, washing away the

Cantonese tones as it sweeps static across the microphone. Behind her,

the cruise ship sits white and motionless.

This is the battle that is Hong Kong: Old Cantonese love songs hurled

into the growing wind of a typhoon, torn apart before they reach the

walls of lifeless Cruise ships and shopping malls looming under the

lights of the financial district. Here spectacle confronts stubborn

humanity in the archetypal “global city,” designed to allow capital to

filter through the port, banks and real estate markets to plunder the

Asian mainland without ever having to pass outside the safety of climate

control and security cordon.

For many years, Hong Kong was little more than a backwater colonial

leftover, with living standards hardly better than those seen in the

other hubs of European activity in Asia. After the mainland Chinese

Revolution, foreign support for industrial development and agrarian

reform poured into the city as a hedge against insurgency, but living

standards and welfare programs were not immediately forthcoming. The

colonial regime was still a brutal one, ruling over an unstable society

and struggling to accommodate an influx of immigrants. In the decades

following the mainland Revolution, spates of rioting were common.

Riots in 1956

marked the beginning of what would soon become repeated conflicts with

the British government. In the spring of 1966 another

wave of rioting

began which culminated a year later with the

1967 Hong Kong riots

, the largest domestic disturbance in the city-state’s history, which

saw massive strikes paired with city-wide street-fighting against

police, the bombing of government offices and targeted attacks against

right-wing media outlets. In the end, after 18 months of open rebellion,

millions of dollars of property had been destroyed, some five thousand

were arrested, two thousand convicted, and many communists deported to

the Chinese mainland.

Following the 1967 riots, the government began a massive expansion of

the welfare state, with the “Colony Outline Plan” proposing to house

nearly a million people in new, cheap, state-built public apartment

complexes. The massive build-up in manufacturing seen since the 1950s

was finally paired with moderate wage increases, and Hong Kong’s

position as one of the early “Asian Tiger” economies was secure. By the

1980s the city was an integral link to a newly-opened China, both

through its geographical proximity to China’s first Special-Economic

Zone across the water in Shenzhen and because of its historical

connections to the Chinese mainland. It was in these decades that the

foundation was laid for the “global city,” often very literally:

Li Ka-shing

, one of the richest men in the world, made his fortune in Hong Kong by

buying properties at bargain prices following the 1967 riots. Today,

those properties form the backbone of the city, and Li not only owns

major skyscrapers in the financial district, but also the port itself,

one of the busiest in the world.

It was this port and the financial structure surrounding it that allowed

Hong Kong to step out of its role as a manufacturer and into its role as

an administrative center for global capitalism in the 1980s. As

manufacturing shifted toward the port cities in China’s mainland, Hong

Kong became an ideal location for the management of these new industrial

hubs and a key re-export node for the Asian mainland. Many of the new

Chinese factory zones were themselves piloted by capital from Hong Kong,

Singapore and Taiwan, as well as more far-flung members of the Chinese

diaspora. Asian foreign-direct investment in China today still exceeds

that of the US or Europe—often in partnership with or on behalf of

Japanese capital.[1]

Today, the Hong Kong border with the mainland is a perfect image of this

divide. On the Shenzhen side, breakneck development sprawls up against

the riverside: faceless, half-empty apartment towers cluster together

under the haze of pollutants. On the Hong Kong side, greenery abuts the

river, the entire border region turned into a nature reserve and

agricultural zone guarded by the military, where one needs a special

license just to enter the forest. At first glance, the two worlds appear

to be antagonistic: the uncontrollable, environmentally devastating

growth of sprawling Shenzhen piling up against the idyllic greenery of

its “post-industrial” neighbor. In reality, this antagonism is a sign of

the deepest interdependence. Each side of the divide is co-constituted

by the other. Shenzhen wouldn’t have been built without Hong Kong

capital. And Hong Kong would never have become a desert of shopping

malls, office towers and carefully crafted agrarian idylls without the

factories of Shenzhen.

[]

The border between Shenzhen and Hong Kong

The Generation with No Future

Hong Kong’s boom years were crafted by its own boom generation—largely

the children of immigrants who had fled to the island first during the

Sino-Japanese war, and then during the civil war between Nationalist and

Communist armies in the later 1940s. As in US, Europe and, ironically,

mainland China, it was this baby boom generation which, though staffing

some of the revolts of the 1960s and early 1970s, was ultimately defined

by the defeat of these movements, with a significant fraction of the

generation turning against those engaged in these revolts in exchange

for a secure position within the restructured global economy. In Hong

Kong, this meant the construction of one of the world’s most extensive

experiments in laissez faire capitalism—one still often lauded by

conservative commentators.

But this has also created a squeeze effect on those coming after the

baby boom generation. Raised on examples of

pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps billionaires like Li Ka-shing, by

parents who themselves made a killing in the unregulated industrial

slaughterhouse of Shenzhen’s heyday, many of Hong Kong’s younger people

are now faced with nothing but soulless service jobs and repeated

economic crises, first in 1997, then in 2007. Forced into cut-throat

competition for spots in top universities, even those students who

succeed in this system are then made to fight for life-crushing

corporate jobs where they will work for abysmally long hours and still

be spending an average of 40% of their income on housing.

Today, 8.5% of Hong Kong households have a yearly income of one million

dollars or above, and the city

hosts

one of the largest

super-prime housing markets

in the world. At the same time, a massive housing shortage exists

alongside

skyrocketing prices

and hundreds of thousands of empty apartments, purchased by the wealthy

as speculative investments. The city is one of the densest in the world

and housing prices are so high that many young people are forced to live

with their parents well into their thirties, while many of the poor are

expelled

out to public housing in “new cities,” from which they have to commute

back into Mongkok or Wanchai to work. Others are forced to find unsafe,

painfully small slum units built on the tops of buildings and in the

interstices of alleyways—with more than 50,000 residents estimated to

literally live in cages

.

[]

Most of Hong Kong’s public housing is located in the new cities,

located in the “New Territories” far from the island’s main urban core.

Details on this chart can be found at the original source, here.

In all, the country’s gini coefficient, at .537, is one of the most

unequal in

the developed world

, and upwards of 20% of the population lives

under the poverty line

. Migrant laborers are routinely abused, collective bargaining is

illegal and the city had no minimum wage at all until 2010, when it was

set to a meager 28 HKD per hour—not even enough to ride the subway from

Mongkok to the airport. Meanwhile, wealthy foreign businessmen are paid

enough to afford premium flats in the mid-levels, a neighborhood

constructed in the colonial era to accommodate British functionaries

fleeing an

outbreak of the plague

in the lowland

Even though Hong Kong is by no means in the same “

anomic breakdown

” as places like Greece, the over-worked, over-shopped, over-crowded

youth of the city seem to have much in common with the unemployed,

underpaid youth of an

emptying Athens

. Faced with a foreclosed future, many youth have decided to simply

leave: emigration from Hong Kong is now

increasing

at the fastest rate since the mass-emigration of the pre-handover period

of the early 1990s.[2] Despite relatively low unemployment (four to five

percent) due to a still-ascendant East Asia, there are more subtle signs

of the crisis: demand for mental health services

has more than doubled

in the past decade, it is commonplace now to hear people speaking about

the cultural “death” of Hong Kong, and what used to be routine protests

against government

developments

and

the mainland government

quickly snowball to increasingly uncontrollable proportions. The recent

student strike and (re)occupation of the Central district (and now

Admiralty, Mong Kok, Causeway Bay and several other key nodes in the

city) are only the latest in a series of such events.

Despite being located at a more privileged position in the division of

labor, the youth in Hong Kong are clearly participating in the same

global dynamic of revolt spearheaded by young people worldwide following

the financial crisis that began in 2007/2008. The people involved in

these events are, precisely, “ultras”—those members of our “generation

with no future” who have sensed the looming economic, environmental and

social doom all around them and chosen to fight back. Worldwide, there

are major differences in the origin and experience of those engaged in

these activities. Some are students, some are street kids, soccer

hooligans or service workers. Coming from such divergent backgrounds,

these revolts have been marked by what the communist theoretical

collective Endnotes

calls

the “composition problem,” wherein “class fractions that typically keep

their distance from each other were forced to recognize one another and

sometimes live together.” The problem embedded in this is the question

of how a movement might “compose,” “coordinate” or “unify” “proletarian

factions, in the course of their struggle” when faced with these

divergent experiences, especially as the social base of the movement

begins to grow. The result has been the production of movements that,

though broadly resonant with large segments of the population, are

ultimately inchoate on the ground.

Pan-Democrats and Passionate Citizens

Each of these revolts, whether in Egypt, Greece or

Missouri

, has been profound in its potential but also crippled by this political

incoherence and practical inexperience. Some places, like Greece and

Spain, have a more cohesive left-wing political tradition that is now

being rediscovered and revived by young people. Other areas, however,

have seen sharp

turns to the right

, as far-right groups in places like the Ukraine and Thailand have

outmaneuvered others in their ability to defend, extend and coordinate

the movement, drawing more of this disaffected generation into their

ranks.

Hong Kong, unfortunately, sits closer in many respects to these latter

examples than the earlier ones. After 1967 the communist-leaning left

had lost much of its mass base and was ruthlessly dismantled by the

police. Meanwhile, the state began giving concessions to workers,

students and others in exchange for their participation in the project

of economic restructuring. Hong Kong’s own Cold War climate, relative to

China, persisted even after the opening of the Chinese economy to

foreign capital, further preventing the resuscitation of any sort of

substantial communist left in the city-state by forcing every nascent

radical grouplet to take a position on the “China question.” Any

“violence” in a protest is, to this day, invariably explained as the

work of CCP provocateurs from the mainland.

The result has been that Hong Kong’s so-called “left,” has for decades

been dominated by a naïve discourse of “democracy” against mainland

“authoritarianism.” Inspired by the Tiananmen Square uprising in Beijing

and terrified by the ruthlessness with which it was crushed, most of

Hong Kong’s radical students since 1989 accepted at face value the

mainstream media portrayal of Tiananmen as a student-led movement for

“democracy.” In Beijing, despite the widespread participation of

non-students, the formation of the Beijing Autonomous Workers’

Federation, and the state’s decision to charge worker-participants with

far higher crimes carrying much longer sentences than their student

counterparts, it was the students who were able to

dominate the messaging

of the movement and appeal to western liberal audiences with calls for

the liberalization of the political and economic system. This was the

distorted image of the movement transmitted to viewers in the US and

Europe, and its influence was only amplified in Hong Kong.

The first immediate effect was the formation of the “Hong Kong Alliance

in Support of Patriotic Democratic Movements in China,” which began to

bring together figures such as Szeto Wah, Martin Lee, and Lee Cheuk-yan,

all of whom were quickly attacked by the mainland government. Two years

later, in 1991, Hong Kong held its first direct elections, which saw a

landslide victory for the electoral alliance between the United

Democrats of Hong Kong and the liberal Meeting Point party, alongside an

amalgamation of smaller liberal-leaning parties. The 1991 election is

seen as the birth of the “Pro-Democracy” camp, which has splintered and

reunified several times in the twenty years since. Today, these

electoral parties, alongside a loose amalgamation of academics,

activists and NGOs, are broadly referred to as the “pan-democrats.”

A key component of the pan-democrats’ activist wing has been the

secondary-school organizations such as

Scholarism

, formed to protest the Chinese government’s “political education”

curriculum, and the Hong Kong Federation of Students (HKFS), which is

elected by the student unions the city’s seven major universities.

Though these organizations technically have a very broad base, their

leadership is almost universally in line with the pan-democrats, and

they seek a legalistic and polite path to reform. Even while the student

organizations often force the more institutionalized wing of the

pan-democrats to take action in an uncertain situation, many of these

student groups still pride themselves on “Hong Kong civility,” even

going so far as to condemn those who fight back when police attack

protesters. At each stage of recent political events in Hong Kong, HKFS

and groups like Scholarism have played both a leading and an ultimately

stifling role. From protests against

developments in the New Territories

to the brief

occupation

following this year’s annual July 1st march, the student groups have

been integral to getting the protests off the ground, but almost

universally falter when faced with actual police repression.

This has created a situation where Hong Kong’s young protestors are

stretched between an ideologically weak but well-funded “pan democrat”

liberalism and its far-right variant, loosely grouped around the

äșșæ°‘ćŠ›é‡

, or “People Power,” party and its followers, called

çƒ­èĄ€ć…Źæ°‘

, or “Civic Passion.” Though they officially have no position on

questions of immigration, Civic Passion has widely accepted far-right

Hong Kong nationalists into their organization and their yellow-shirted

membership can frequently be spotted at rallies telling immigrants

(particularly mainland Chinese) to leave.

[]

Wong Yeung-tat, a leader of the right-wing Civic Passion group, with

an anti-CCP banner behind.

Consistent with nationalist politics elsewhere, Civic Passion tends to

obscure class conflict with the language of national belonging. In terms

of political analysis, many are more similar to people like Ron Paul and

Alex Jones than to anything recognizably leftist. Rather than seeing the

true role of the international capitalist class in the looting of Hong

Kong’s future, they only see the role played by mainland capitalists in

this process. More dangerously, they then attribute a completely false

role to thousands of poorer mainlanders who have migrated to Hong Kong

(or simply visit as less wealthy tourists), portraying them as locusts

come to infest the city and drain it of all its resources.

Anti-mainland sentiment

is a widely accepted and very public form of racism in Hong Kong,

clearly visible on the surface of everyday life. In 2012, Apple Daily,

one of the few media outlets without direct or indirect censorship from

Beijing, ran a full-page ad that portrayed a

giant locust

looming over Hong Kong, asking: “Are you willing for Hong Kong to spend

one million Hong Kong Dollars every eighteen minutes to raise the

children born to mainland parents?” Then, earlier this year, over 100

people joined an

“anti-locust” campaign

, marching to Canton Road—a site of many expensive jewelry shops favored

by wealthier mainland tourists—with signs that said things like “go back

to China” and “reclaim Hong Kong,” yelling abuse at any

mandarin-speaking bystanders. In moments of exacerbated social tension,

this everyday racism is a convenient pressure-release, structured such

that it both divides the protestors and prevents them from looking

across the border to find their natural allies in the rioting migrant

laborers of the Pearl River Delta.

[]

An anti-mainlander ad run in one of Hong Kong’s biggest newspapers

But, when disillusioned by the conservatism of the pan-democratic

alliance, groups like People’s Power and Civic Passion are the first

visible alternatives, since they have been some of the few groups

willing to attempt more militant actions. In only a few years these

groups have seen a marked increase in popularity, as young people have

watched the pan-democrats’ vigils and party-pandering going nowhere. To

take the most frequently cited example: On June 4th, the mainstream

democratic parties hold an annual candlelight vigil to commemorate the

1989 Tiananmen Square movement. Civic Passion began a yearly alternative

rally, more militant but also interspersed with nationalist (what they

call “localist”) and racist slogans. In 2013, their alternate rally only

brought together around 200 people, but by 2014, it had

attracted 7,000

. Attendance at the official vigil shrank by tens of thousands in the

same interval, though this main event still remained far larger.

In today’s “Umbrella Revolution,” it may appear that anti-mainland

groups have again been sidelined. But past experience shows that, when

the pan-democrats begin to falter through their own inaction, only the

far-right has been capable of pushing for tactical advances capable of

winning over increasingly militant swaths of the youth. Politics in Hong

Kong has been running up against this wall for years now.

[]

A sticker protesting “Colonization” and “New Hong Kong People” —

i.e., mainland Chinese — pictured in Mong Kok prior to the newest

Occupation.

OG Occupy and the Port Strike

The current “Occupy Central” group—technically “Occupy Central with Love

and Peace”—tends to obscure the existence of Hong Kong’s

original Occupy Central

. Like Occupy in the US, Hong Kong’s 2011 Occupation targeted a downtown

financial center, raising tents in the bottom level of the HSBC building

in the heart of the city’s finance district. Though Occupy Central was

among the longest-lasting of any of the 2011 Occupations (starting in

October 2011 and ending around September 2012), it saw much smaller

numbers than elsewhere, with only hundreds participating at the height

of the movement. Nonetheless, it marked a new era of civil unrest in the

small city-state, and many of the participants in the original

Occupation went on to build the groundwork that made the current

movement possible, organizing against the New Territories developments

or helping to coordinate the student strike that ignited the “Umbrella

Movement.”

[]

Hong Kong’s original Occupy movement

But the original occupation, like many others, was also politically

chaotic. Alongside a nascent anarchist presence, the movement churned

together the usual mixture of conspiracy-theory types, short-sighted

activists and, of course, some liberals. In Hong Kong, these liberals

were of the pan-democratic variety, though their political perspective

is basically parallel to the shallow “get money out of politics”

critique hoisted by liberals involved in Occupy Wall Street. Despite the

divergence between these liberals and the original occupiers—a swath of

young professionals, students, the unemployed, and homeless people—it

was the older liberals who, following the eviction of the Occupation,

were able to use their media connections and international acclaim to

announce a plan for what was effectively a re-occupation, despite the

fact that hardly any of them had participated in Occupy Central itself.

A triad of talking heads—professor Benny Tai, professor Chan Kin-man and

the reverend Chu Yiu-ming—formulated and proposed a plan for a series of

collective deliberations that would culminate in a reform program to be

proposed to the legislative council, demanding a government elected by

popular vote. In Hong Kong, this is referred to as “universal suffrage,”

despite the fact that it excludes segments of the population such as

immigrant domestic workers

. If the reform plan was not accepted, the three leaders threatened mass

civil disobedience in Central, calling the new movement “Occupy Central

with Love and Peace,” to emphasize that it would be “non-violent” and

not go against the wishes of the majority of people of Hong Kong.

[]

The Logo for the new “Occupy with Love and Peace”

But after the new Occupy Central group held an online vote (in which

only one tenth of the Hong Kong population ultimately participated),

anti-Occupy forces sponsored a city-wide petition and

signature-gathering campaign and public opinion polls found that there

was not majority support for the re-occupation. In response, Benny Tai

declared

that the movement had “failed,” fearing that an actual occupation would

drive more and more of the so-called “pragmatic” citizens into an

outright rejection of the pan-democrats’ program. Around this time, it

was common to see ads broadcast on the public busses, in which everyone

from young Hong Kong hipsters to old business-owners explained that the

plan to occupy Central would shut down small businesses and ruin weekend

shopping. This fear that a protest movement might lose the support of

civil society is a constant anxiety in Hong Kong politics, effectively

forcing most movements to stifle themselves before they even begin, all

in the name of politeness.

The post-facto re-branding of Occupy also conveniently disguised the

more radical aspects of the original occupation with the new liberal

platform. Though the significance may not be apparent to outside

viewers, the original Occupation was one of the few spaces where some of

the members of the “generation with no future” were coming together and

collectively critiquing the whole of Hong Kong politics, pan-democrats

included and politeness be damned. Some of the core members of that

Occupation even distributed a lucid critique of liberal democracy,

effectively “slaughtering” Hong Kong’s “sacred cow”—something that would

have been completely unthinkable throughout much of the city’s post-’89

history. And it was out of this milieu that more radical segments of

students and young people ultimately circumvented the quavering

“deliberations” of Occupy Central with Love and Peace to initiate the

student strike, not only Occupying Central, but also Admiralty, Causeway

Bay and a large stretch of Mong Kok.

It wasn’t the first time that younger people had come into conflict with

the old guard of pan-democrats. When tensions began to heighten in the

city after the ousting of the original Occupy in 2012, this newfound

antagonism began to percolate outward. In March of 2013, a massive

strike began among workers at the Kwai Tsing Container Terminal of the

port of Hong Kong, resulting in the largest, longest labor conflict that

the city had seen in decades. Though there was no immediate connection

between the original Occupy, the strike and the present protests, it’s

clear that each was generated by the same economic stagnation and

intensifying class antagonism. More importantly, each movement has

created a shift in people’s general political awareness, and this new

awareness has become the base of support for subsequent movements.

Though

initiated

independently by crane operators within the port, the strike was quickly

picked up by the Union of Hong Kong Dockers, which is affiliated with

the Hong Kong Confederation of Trade Unions and the Labour Party, all

led by the old guard of pan-democrats. With union representatives

spearheading negotaitions, the initial energies of the striking workers

were quickly diverted and the strike was prevented from spreading to a

majority of the workforce. The port, owned by Li Ka-shing’s flagship

company,

Hutchinson Whampoa

, is central to both the image and economy of Hong Kong. A true shutdown

would have resounded through the entire region’s economy, drying up the

profit flows for many of the area’s richest capitalists in both Hong

Kong and the mainland. Realizing that such a shutdown would mobilize the

media—and the wealthy people who compose “civil society”—against the

workers, the union and labor party convinced the strikers to accept the

court injunction banning them from the port only days after the strike

began.

This meant that, instead of occupying the port itself, workers set up

tents on the sidewalk outside of it and erected a mostly symbolic

blockade in front of one of the port’s entryways. Media worldwide

reported on the “strike,” but, behind the show, the port was running

only slightly slower than usual. Even at the height of the strike the

port was still operating at 80% capacity. Only a fraction of workers

within the port were members of the union, and, among the unionized

workers, those who argued for increased economic obstruction were

sidelined or ignored. Younger supporters attempted to make contact with

more workers, but were again sidelined by the old guard of liberals

staffing the unions.

Fearful that even the minor disruption caused by the roadside occupation

was too much for the palate of civil society (who were, after all, the

main contributors to the strike fund), the union soon dismantled the

camp altogether, setting up a second, much more meager encampment at the

foot of the downtown Cheung Kong Center, where Hutchinson Whampoa has

its headquarters. From then on, “strikers” were far removed from the

port itself, reduced to holding signs in front of a downtown building.

In the end, only a fraction of the demands were met, and most workers

considered the strike a loss

.

When later asked how they felt about the strike, which many media

outlets portrayed as unprecedented, many of the older workers pointed

out that two earlier strikes had actually occurred at the port prior to

the 1997 handover, when the Labour Party was non-existent and most labor

unions were illegal. These older workers argued that the earlier strikes

were actually far more successful, since the workers had no union or

party representation pushing them to appeal first and foremost to the

tastes of civil society. They had therefore simply engaged in wildcat

strikes that crippled the actual functioning of the port and thereby won

them significant portions of their demands. By comparison, the most

recent strike was a dismal loss.[3]

Part 2: The Present

Umbrellas Up Much of the information in these last few sections

comes from first-hand accounts by people we are in contact with on the

ground, who have been conducting interviews and inquiring into the state

of the different political factions involved. Some of the people we are

in contact with were involved in the initial student strike. Others have

only begun participating after the police crackdown. Because of the

first-hand quality of the information, these sections will frequently

provide information, including quotes from interviews, without a link or

citation.

The port strike is an important precedent for understanding the

“Umbrella Movement,” since today’s occupiers will doubtlessly be faced

with the same dilemma. Just like the strikers, they risk becoming

deadlocked between appealing to civil society and deepening their

economic obstruction. Already, internal divides within the movement make

this apparent. Most of the younger protestors have completely rejected

the leadership of “Occupy Central with Love and Peace” group, lambasting

Chan Kin-man when he claimed that the blockades would end if Chief

Executive CY Leung stepped down. Meanwhile, these same young people have

parroted popular language about democracy, universal suffrage and

non-violence—demanding that no property be harmed and that people not

fight back even if the police attack.

[]

A poster encouraging people to use non-violence, and to fight only

for democracy (but not literally)

This servile spirit of “politeness” risks stranding the protestors in a

dead zone. In this dead zone, they’ll find themselves incapable of

escalating the economic disruption that gives power to the

movement—since many see even damaging private property as uncivil—and

this inaction will make it easy enough for the government to starve out

or appease the protestors with more minor concessions, such as the

firing of the Chief Executive. Many, though aware of this conundrum, are

equally fearful that (rumor has it) gangster provocateurs[4] might

escalate the situation on orders from Beijing, creating a convenient

excuse for a military occupation of the island.

An interesting contradiction arises here. The latent nationalism of the

protests makes it so that the police, as “Hong Kong people,” are seen as

allies and potentially future participants, while the intervention of

the military—even if it used all the same tactics as the police—would be

universally rejected. This is because the military units themselves

would be composed of mainlanders under the direct order of Beijing,

rather than the secondary control of Beijing’s Hong Kong politicians.

For the protestors, this does not represent any sort of logical

contradiction. Many firmly hold to the position that it is

counterproductive to fight police or resist arrest, then, in the next

sentence, argue that people would be fully justified in using violent

tactics to resist the military.

A populist perspective prevents the recognition of any antagonism

internal to “the people,” transposing the source of all conflict outward

onto external groups, whether defined by race, national origin or simply

immigration status. When such populism is predominant, riots, property

destruction and even “impoliteness” on the part of protestors will be

invariably written off as the work of “outsiders”—in this case, mainland

Chinese—at least until they generalize. But strikes have a much greater

propensity to break such a populist logic, since they immediately make

visible antagonisms internal to the given society.

[]

A barricade in Mong Kok.

[]

Abandoned public buses plastered with protestors’ messages. Note the

characters, top center, referencing the “Democracy Wall” movement in

mainland China from 1979-1981.

[]

Another barricade, this time with two cars parked in front to ensure

that the police cannot easily break through. One car has had its tires

removed in order to prevent it from being pushed away.

The current movement has only a few paths forward, and many routes to

defeat. The tactical stagnation of the protests could allow the

government to simply wait them out, as the protestors’ own inaction

delegitimizes them in the eyes of more casual participants. There are

already complaints from people who have newly joined the protests that

the entire movement seems to be simply drifting, with no real force

leading it forward. At best, the revolt may fail by becoming a “social

movement”—a sterile spectacle put on for civil society, where future NGO

leaders and politicians gestate before being unleashed upon the poor. At

worst, the people of Hong Kong might actually get the popular vote, in

which case they’d be allowed an enormous amount of participation in a

system over which they have no control and in which all the same

problems of inflation, inequality and immiseration would continue

unabated.[5]

In this situation, however, there is also the risk that defeat might

come in the form of a resurgent rightwing. If the far-right is capable

of becoming the force that can torque the protests out of their

stagnation, then the movement as a whole will slide farther down the

path of nationalism. In the current “

era of riots

,” the right-wing tends to be capable of magnetizing people to itself

regardless of whether the majority of people agree or disagree with the

racist politics of groups like Civic Passion—which went normcore early

on in the movement, abandoning its public presence in favor of an

“undercover” agitation, spreading flyers and speeches attacking the

inaction of the “leftist pricks”[6] in charge, and only more recently

has become a visible presence, their yellow-shirted members defending

the barricades in Mong Kok (barricades built by anarchists, no less)

against attempts by “blue ribbon” opponents (mostly older anti-Occupy

protestors) to dismantle them. This situation bears a miserable

similarity to the

experience of Ukraine

, with the far-right acting as hatchet men for an alliance of more

West-leaning capitalists.

[]

A small group of Civic Passion members defending a barricade from

being dismantled by other members of the occupation. This role has not

always been played by the right-wing, but acts like this reinforce their

public presence. Note that their yellow shirts say, in English:

“proletariat,” consistent with the general usurpation of leftist

terminology by far right or “third positionist” groups.

[]

Translation: Don’t trust leftist pricks Be vigilant [lest they ask

us] to disperse Remember that we are [doing] civil disobedience, not

having a Party!!! What we want is TRUE UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE!!! No karaoke

No group photos We still haven’t won No leaders No small-group

discussion [this refers to “discussion groups” organized by liberals]

It’s not about “Democracy”

But defeat is by no means inevitable here. Young people in Hong Kong,

like pretty much anywhere these days, are recognizing that their future

has been looted and are attempting, through whatever means they have

available, to both reach some understanding of how they have come to be

in this position and how they might fight back. In Hong Kong, China is

very much “the future,” as the small city-state is integrated more and

more into its massive mainland neighbor.[7] This means that the sense of

a doomed future among youth translates into the intuition that China is

also the origin of that approaching doom.

There are plenty of young protestors who are frustrated with the

inactivity of the movement, but feel isolated and incapable of pushing

anything forward themselves. This is especially true at night, when more

of the angry and dedicated young people tend to come out, but there are

currently no means whereby these protestors are able to make contact

with one another and coordinate their activity. More importantly, even

these protestors tend to translate their discontent into the language of

“democracy” and “universal suffrage,” and they fail to look across the

border to find allies among the factory workers of the Pearl River

Delta.

But despite the fact that the pan-democrats’ terminology is the lingua

franca of the movement, it’s clear that the movement itself is, for many

people, hardly about liberal “democracy.” In fact, most discussions of

what protestors actually want quickly jump into entirely different

terrain. When asked what their goals are, many will respond with the

parroted list of demands—this is incredibly consistent across social

strata and different age groups. But when pressed about why they want

these things, most protestors then immediately jump to economic, rather

than purely political, problems.

People bemoan skyrocketing rents, the inhuman levels of inequality,

inflation in the price of food and public transport, and the

governments’ tendency to simply ignore the vast swaths of people sitting

at the bottom of society. One speaker at an open mic made the common—if

simply wrong—argument: “Why is Hong Kong just a couple of rich people

and so many poor people?! Because we have no democracy!” Many claim—with

abysmally poor awareness of how liberal democracies actually function in

places like Greece or the United States—that once they are able to

“choose” their own leaders these leaders will be able to fix widespread

problems of inflation, poverty and financial speculation. Democracy has

thereby come to designate less the practical application of a popular

voting system and more a sort of elusive panacea, capable of somehow

curing all social ills.

[]

An older man, originally from Hong Kong, he left before the

handover. In town visiting family, he is seen here having picture taken

in front of the barricades. Visible at his right is the word

“Democracy.”

But both the populist and democratic illusions of the movement are

capable of being destabilized. As the occupation spreads to broader

segments of the population, new participants bring their own demands to

the barricades. Some of the original liberal students, including the

HKFS leadership, have become increasingly frustrated by this, and have

been plastering up signage encouraging people to stick to demands of

universal suffrage. Interviewees have expressed the fear that the

movement will get “confused” and “watered down” by many of the new

protestors, who have come out to protest against the police attacks on

students more than they are protesting for electoral reform. But it’s

just as possible that the new demands may actually re-ignite the

movement itself, pushing it beyond the domain of mundane electoral

demands. Generally, when class strata far distant from those that

initiated the movement begin joining in, it signals a sort of phase

shift in what is going on and amplifies the movement’s power, rather

than watering it down.

[]

A poster requesting that people stay “on point” and that new

protestors stop demanding things beyond electoral reform

One particularly volatile potential is the increasing involvement of

workers. The relatively small Hong Kong Confederation of Trade Unions

has called for a general strike and, on October 1st (China’s “National

Day”), at least

some workers

began heading the call.[8] Several of the port workers who were involved

in the initial dock strike were also present early in the week, showing

their support for the protestors, though also claiming that another port

strike seemed “impossible.” But as the occupation in the streets

continues to grow, particularly in areas with more residential housing

such as Mong Kok, it becomes more and more likely that other workers may

begin to join in.

The extension of the occupation into a general strike would have the

added effect of inherently destabilizing both the exclusively political

demands of the movement as well as questioning its populist

presumptions. If the port workers were to initiate a second strike, for

example, there would be no denying the role of Li Ka-shing and other

Hong Kong capitalists in the plundering of workers’ everyday lives and

the pillaging of young peoples’ future. It would be simply impossible to

defer this conflict out onto mainlanders. The class antagonism internal

to Hong Kong would become increasingly undeniable, and the protests

could be forced off their path-of-least-resistance and toward a future

simultaneously more dangerous and hopeful.

The Typhoon

Tsim Sha Tsui is now occupied, but the rumor is that the right-wing has

a strong presence. Barricades have been built outside the shopping mall

and crowds huddle under umbrellas, debating the future of the movement

under the looming shape of the cruise ship. The right-wing pretends that

the cruise ship is just full of mainland capitalists, while the

left-wing seems unable to speak. The girl singing Cantonese love songs

and her boyfriend playing off-tune guitar are gone now, maybe building a

barricade somewhere out of tourist kiosks and traffic signs. But the

singing is not so much simply absent as it is transformed, extending now

to the entire city in the shape of people’s hopes plastered onto emptied

buses and rain-splattered government buildings.

The typhoon has come, and the waters are shaking so violently that it’s

unclear how much longer the cruise ship can sit immobile above the city.

Its wealthy denizens, mainland and otherwise, sit quiet and invisible

behind the white walls and cordons of police. If the pier is occupied,

will the port come next? Despite the miserable servility of Hong Kong

politeness, the short-sighted demands and the bitter populism of the

movement, it is at least clear that, after this, Hong Kong will not be

the same. There is no longer the possibility of preserving the status

quo—and this fact, if anything, ensures that there is a potential to the

movement, even if it is defeated.

The typhoon is by nature a chaotic creature, and, after the island is

flooded, it may seem to leave things even worse than they were before.

But that chaos also holds a certain promise. The breaking of the status

quo cuts a glimmer of possibility in a horizon that had appeared before

as nothing but sheer doom. There is an opening. Maybe people begin to

learn how to navigate toward it, despite the rain. And, even if it keeps

raining for years to come, people have umbrellas.

—an American ultra and some anonymous friends

[1] For a more detailed history of China’s economic opening and the role

of East Asian capital in the late 20th century, see Giovanni Arrighi’s

article, “China’s Market Economy in the Long Run,” in China and the

Transformation of Global Capitalism, edited by Ho-fung Hung. John’s

Hopkins University Press, 2009. p.22.

[2] It has to be noted here that out-migration today is still far lower

than out-migration in the early 1990s, when as many as 60,000 were

leaving every year.

[3] This information comes from interviews with several people in Hong

Kong’s post-Occupy milieu who were present on the first few days of the

strike and organized alongside workers throughout.

[4] In Hong Kong, many of the organized gangs are now “patriotic,”

working with the Hong Kong government and serving the interests of

Beijing. This is not universally true, however, and the rumors of

Beijing-backed gangster provocateurs have run up against reports of Mong

Kok gangs working with the protestors to build up the barricades.

[5] There may well be something to the claim that a future Hong Kong

democracy would create a political space where class antagonism could be

galvanized in a way that ultimately goes well beyond the bounds of

reformist politics—this is essentially the argument (as far as we can

gather) of some groups like Left 21. Nonetheless, this is a disingenuous

position, basically attempting to continue the delusion a little longer

and defer the recognition of antagonism indefinitely. Usually deferring

action to the “right time” is simply a method of rejecting action

altogether.

[6] Literally â€œć·Šè† ,” “left penises” in Cantonese, referring to the

pan-democratic leadership more than the (largely invisible) leftist

grouplets. 膠 is a word that literally means plastic but is also used to

mean dick, due to the similarity between the sounds of 膠 and éł©, a more

common euphemism for penis (though it literally means turtledove). The

insult of “leftist prick” has in the past day or two gained broad

purchase in the movement, and can be heard repeated every major

occupation in the city. Even leftists have begun using it as a good,

short-hand insult for the pan-democrats. There’s nothing inherently bad

in the use of the term—despite some soft-stomached leftists’ inevitable

butthurt—the problem is more that it is the far right that has put

itself in the position to coin and popularize slogans that are being

picked up by the entirety of the movement. When these slogans (or

aesthetics, or tactics, or whatever) generalize, it puts the right-wing

in a de facto leadership position.

[7] Since the 1997 Handover of the island from British Colonial Mandate

to the Chinese government happened to occur at the same time as the

Asian Financial Crisis, China is also irrationally associated with the

era of economic stagnation that this crisis initiated for Hong Kong.

[8] It’s ambiguous, however, whether claims of “10,000 striking workers”

have any connection to reality, since National Day is also a national

holiday on which many workers are not required to come to work in the

first place. Many, given the holiday, simply came to the occupations

instead, since they had the day off. By no means were these people

“striking.”