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Title: Three Months of Insurrection
Author: CrimethInc.
Date: September 20, 2019
Language: en
Topics: Hong Kong, analysis, insurrection, China, authoritarianism, the Left, interview
Source: Retrieved on 17th June 2021 from https://crimethinc.com/2019/09/20/three-months-of-insurrection-an-anarchist-collective-in-hong-kong-appraises-the-achievements-and-limits-of-the-revolt

CrimethInc.

Three Months of Insurrection

In the following timeline and interview, an anarchist collective in Hong

Kong presents a complete overview of the months-long uprising, reviewing

its achievements, identifying its limits, celebrating the inspiring

moments of mutual aid and defiance, and critiquing the ways that it has

yet to pass beyond a framework based in the appeal to authority and the

outrage of the citizen. This is a follow-up to the interview we

published with the same group in June.

The struggle in Hong Kong has been polarizing on an international level.

Some conspiracy theorists are determined to read any form of protest

against the Chinese government merely as the machinations of the US

state department, as if it were impossible for protesters to set their

own agenda apart from state oversight. Others cheerlead for the movement

without concern about the nationalist and neoliberal myths that still

hold sway within it.

The events in Hong Kong show how a movement can actively reject the

legitimacy of one government and its laws and police while still

retaining a naĂŻve faith in other governments, other laws, other police.

As long as this faith remains in some form, the cycle is bound to

repeat. Yet the past months of insurrection in Hong Kong can help us to

imagine what a worldwide struggle against all forms of capitalism,

nationalism, and the state might look like—and help us identify the

obstacles that still remain to the emergence of such a struggle.

Timeline of Events

June 2019

In spring 2019, the government of Hong Kong introduced a bill allowing

for people to be extradited from Hong Kong to other countries, including

mainland China.

A massive peaceful demonstration against the extradition bill took place

on June 9, attended by millions of people. During the following week,

some people on the online forum LIHKG proposed that the movement utilize

economic protest tactics—for example, the comprehensive withdrawal of

cash from savings accounts and general strikes. This did not occur on a

visible scale until much later.

On June 12, when a meeting was scheduled in the legislative council

about the extradition bill, protesters and police clashed around the

government headquarters and the CITIC Tower. The meeting was adjourned.

Police fired over 150 tear gas canisters and rubber bullets at

protesters, injuring many people; they arrested five people, charging

them with rioting.

Although the government announced on June 15 that the extradition bill

would be suspended, a protester fell to his death later that day. In the

will that he left, he called for the “complete withdrawal of the

extradition bill, the retraction of the riot charge, the unconditional

release of injured students; the resignation of Carrie Lam.” From that

point on, most of these were counted among the demands of the struggle.

Two million people participated in street protests the following day, on

June 16.

Late June to July 1

On June 21, protesters carried out the first experiments in “guerrilla”

action, moving from the government headquarters to the police

headquarters, the Revenue Tower, and the Immigration Tower in the

adjacent district, blocking entrances and temporarily closing the

respective departments. Some went back to the Revenue Tower the next

day, June 22, to apologize to users for the inconvenience.

A crowd-funded global advertising campaign calling for G20 leaders to

act on the Hong Kong crisis on June 26 generated no discernible

response. Two more protesters committed suicide at the end of the month.

Desperation intensified, leading many to propose that the struggle was

facing an “endgame” situation with the approach of July 1.

That day, July 1, protesters broke into the Legislative Council (LegCo)

building. Pacifist demonstrators privately voiced concerns about this

action, but ultimately chose not to condemn those who engaged in it.

Four protesters who entered the council chambers refused to leave when

the riot police arrived, and a dozen protesters went back in to “rescue”

them. From that point on, the resolutions “not to split” into factions

(不割蓆) and “to come (arrive at the demonstration) and go (escape from

the riot police) together” (齊上齊落) defined the collective ethos of

the struggle.

Early July: The Conflict Spreads

During the Umbrella Movement of 2014, demonstrators had invented the

Lennon Wall, an impromptu and unauthorized public bulletin board, as a

way for “conscientious citizens” to “peacefully petition the government

for redress” in a widely visible way. During June 2019, this model had

transcended its strictly pacifist origins to take on the functions of

disseminating information and coordinating strategy. On June 30, the

police destroyed the Lennon Wall that protesters had set up at the

government headquarters. In response, Lennon Walls began to appear in

every major district, staffed and guarded around the clock.

Although no one was arrested on July 1, many people feared that there

would be subsequent police reprisals. Some fled to other countries.

Necessity compelled everyone in the struggle to memorize, by rote, what

they should say—and not say—when captured by the police. The phrase “I

have the right to remain silent”(我冇野講) became a popular meme, and

the repetition of this mantra began to be used as a way to upvote posts

on the LIHKG message board.

On July 7, the first rally occurred outside the main protest areas on

Hong Kong Island, with slogans and leaflets directed at the Mainland

tourists frequenting the area. Protests spread to a variety of other

districts over the following weeks, notably occurring in Shatin on July

14. People from the neighborhood showed support by throwing swimming

boards out of their windows to protesters, to be used as shields, and

yelling at the police who entered their housing estates. Police charged

into a shopping mall for the first time, leaving the floor of the Shatin

New Town Mall bloody. The train to Shatin was suspended on police

orders, while self-organized carpool teams formed to facilitate

protesters’ escapes.

On July 17, after a few severe clashes, thousands of senior citizens

marched to show their support for young protesters, declaring that they

were not conservative knaves like so many of their generation, like the

apathetic and apolitical ones young people call “old rubbish.”

July 21

A march to the Liaison Office of China—the official PR outlet of the

Chinese Communist Party in Hong Kong—saw the national emblem of China

smeared with a thick coat of ink. For the first time, people chanted the

slogan “Restore Hong Kong to Glory, Revolution of Our Times” (光復香港

時代革命) en masse. Police fired tear gas, rubber bullets, and sponge

grenades[1] without prior notice.

Meanwhile, at Yuen Long station, white-shirted triads[2] assaulted

protesters and civilians on the train. Some believe that pro-Beijing

legislator Junius Ho was behind this attack. The assaults took place

with the assistance of the police, who sat idly by. Few of the

perpetrators were arrested and none were charged. This incident aroused

deep popular rage against the police.

Late July to Early August: Escalation

For the first time in popular memory, the police refused to issue a

permit for the march that was to take place in Yuen Long on July 27, a

week after the triad attack. Thousands took defiantly to the street

regardless. Marching without permission has since become the norm. A

misunderstanding occurred between the protesters on the “agreed”

departure time, resulting in long discussions on LIHKG and calls for

better communication between the frontlines and the rows of partisans

behind them.

On July 28, 49 partisans were arrested; most were charged with rioting.

From that day until early August, the protests became more spontaneous

and ephemeral, with protesters traveling to different stations via the

Hong Kong metro, MTR (Mass Transit Railway), chiefly targeting police

stations. For the first time, people began hurling Molotovs and bricks

at police stations, as well as using slingshots. More and more people

from the neighborhood came out to support the struggle, yelling at the

police and driving them back into their stations. Police repeatedly

deployed tear gas in residential areas and around homes for the elderly.

People blocked the Cross-Harbor Tunnel on August 3. On August 5, a squad

of male officers carried away a female protester in Tin Shui Wai,

deliberately lifting her skirt and exposing her. At the same time,

reports began to circulate about sexual assault in police stations.

On August 5, thousands participated in a “general strike” in different

districts. People blocked the doors of train cars on the MTR early that

morning, stopping almost every line of the MTR. (This had been

“rehearsed” on July 30, when one station was shut down early in the

morning, followed by short and periodic blockages at various important

interchange stations on Hong Kong island in the afternoon.) In many

districts, the clashes around police stations lasted all day. That

night, pro-government gangs dressed in blue or white shirts attacked

protesters with iron poles and knives.

Mid-August: An Eye for an Eye

In response to the police arresting a young man for owning 10 laser

pointers, describing them as “dangerous weapons,” people created their

own harbor-front light show with laser pointers outside the Hong Kong

Space Museum on August 7. That same day, the first press conference took

place on behalf of the struggle, organized by a group of protesters as a

counterpart to the daily police press conferences.

Flash-mob blockades appeared in multiple districts the weekend of August

10. On August 11, protesters from Sham Shui Po moved to Tsim Sha Tsui,

where the police ruptured the right eye of a female first-aider using

beanbag rounds. “An eye for an eye” became a viral meme, and the “Eye

for Hong Kong Campaign” started by Kim Ui-Seong, a well-known South

Korean actor, spread around the world later in August.

On the same day, police fired tear gas inside an enclosed space at Kwai

Fong station and shot at protesters from close range, pushing them down

an already crowded escalator at Tai Koo station. Undercover cops dressed

as protesters made arrests without prior notice. This sowed distrust

among protesters.

The next day, August 12, thousands gathered at the airport to condemn

police brutality, causing hundreds of flights to be cancelled. Rumors

that riot squads were about to arrive spread all afternoon; many left

early, before 6 pm. Afterwards, feeling deceived, angry protesters

returned to the airport on August 13 and actively blocked passengers

from boarding. The atmosphere became tenser later in the evening when

protesters identified two men disguised as protesters—one a mainland

security officer, the other a journalist from Global Times who had close

ties with the mainland security department. Both were tied up and beaten

by protesters. The incident was widely reported in the mainland,

stirring strong opposition to the movement. Disputes raged afterward

among protesters regarding how to treat infiltrators, leading to a

public show of contrition on August 14. Despite the disagreements, a

sense of “unity” persisted, a unity that protesters swore would survive

a nuclear explosion (核爆都唔割).

The End of August

Millions of peaceful protesters attended a march on August 18 despite

heavy rain. On August 23, the “Hong Kong Way” action took place across

the city. Aviation staff and Cathay Pacific union leaders who assisted

the airport blockades or showed sympathy to the movement on social media

were fired under pressure from Beijing. Multiple reports circulated

about detainees being badly beaten and sexually assaulted, even raped. A

ProtestToo gathering against sexual violence took place on August 28.

On August 24, the MTR closed down several stations and stopped train

service at the related districts immediately before a demonstration in

Kwun Tong. From that day on, protesters began to refer to the MTR as the

“Party Train” (黨鐵); it became a target of vandalism. At the Kwun Tong

protest, protesters presented what have become known as “the five

demands”: full withdrawal of the bill, revocation of “riot” charges,

unconditional release of all arrestees, establishment of an independent

inquiry into the crimes of the police, and universal suffrage. Some also

cut down the “smart lampposts” installed in the district, RFID-equipped

streetlights that are set to be upgraded with facial recognition

technology. They sawed the posts down, disassembled the circuitry, and

identified where the component pieces were manufactured.

On August 31, despite the arrests of high-profile activists and

councilors, thousands still took to the street. Water cannons had been

tested for the first time on August 25; now they were used at full

strength to douse the crowd with blue pepper liquid. Protesters set fire

to roadblocks around the police headquarters; they also identified and

surrounded an undercover policeman.

Later, in Prince Edward station, police indiscriminately beat and

pepper-sprayed protesters and commuters in a train cabin. Seven people

were seriously injured. At least three people are still unaccounted for

at the time of writing; many believe that police murdered them. There

has been no response to popular demands for the MTR to release the CCTV

footage. After this, hatred against the police and the MTR reached new

heights, and people circulated various methods to evade train fares.

Early September

On September 1, thousands gathered at the bus station and on the main

road towards the airport, the airport building itself being off-limits

since the high court passed a restraining order on protesters following

the airport blockades. This action effectively paralyzed traffic towards

the airport throughout the afternoon. Universities and secondary school

students went on strike on September 2, with many facing assaults from

police and supporters of the government in front of their schools.

Students and alumni formed multi-school human chains in various

districts throughout the week.

Finally, on September 4, the chief executive announced the withdrawal

process of the extradition bill—a process that will begin after the end

of Parliamentary Recess in October. Yet the movement continues to insist

that the government must grant all five demands. As of this writing,

vandalism in MTR stations continues, along with inquests regarding the

whereabouts of the “disappeared” and demands for the release of the CCTV

footage from August 31.

---

Interview

We conducted this interview with an anarchist collective that has been

active in the struggle over the last fifteen weeks. Between ingesting

vast amounts of tear gas, they met to ruminate over these questions. The

answers are the result of many sleepless nights spent in introspection

and recollection, each member of the collective helping the others to

fill in the lacunae in their overworked memories.

At what points has the movement plateaued? What has made it escalate,

spread, survive?

The “plateau” was probably reached on August 5, on the day of the first

proposed “general strike.” Though not properly a general strike in the

technical sense, it effectively shut down much of the city for an entire

day. In many ways, it was a momentous event, both in its magnitude and

because it was the first time that a strike was called for political

(rather than simply economic) reasons by working people operating

outside a union.

At the same time, despite the fact that police stations were

surrounded—and, in certain cases, subjected to continued attacks,

torched, or even destroyed—the events of that day accomplished little in

the way of tangible results, with the state remaining silent. Nobody

could have anticipated that the day would have turned out as gloriously

as it did, as popular revenge on the police took the most unforgettable

forms across the city, but that was very much the point at which people

began to feel as though they had done everything they could to compel

the government to respond, and the euphoria of that evening began to

develop into exasperation.

Anger at police has been one of the chief factors that has propelled the

movement since then.

Many of you must be aware of the unfettered brutality of the Hong Kong

police, a brutality that they have been given greater and greater

license to indulge in with each passing day. This is the same police

force that went to painstaking lengths to stake a claim to being “Asia’s

finest” after the riots of the late 1960s and decades of corruption.

Certainly, it has been traumatic for many to lose the illusion that Hong

Kong is a liberal metropolis in which producers and consumers can go

about their lives unmolested, enjoying the unhindered traffic of

opinions and commodities. But young graduates from the police academy

have to come to terms with their own trauma, as well, having lost hope

of obtaining a temperate and uneventful career with regular promotions

and bonuses, without any of the risks of precarity that characterize the

occupations available to others who have limited education.

We have no pity for the police, but it is clear that they are motivated

by pure and uninhibited wrath. This wrath is what they share in common

with those that they brutalize—the difference, of course, being that

they are legally authorized and encouraged to enact it. One shudders to

think what sort of perverse, Full Metal Jacket-style motivational talks

they are given by their superiors before they are deployed in protests,

what sort of disgusting discussions they have in their cadet Whatsapp

groups, what other means they use to keep themselves foaming at the

mouth, straining at the leash to crack a protester’s head open. While no

one in our collective knows for certain what actually happens in police

stations when you are captured now, there are widespread reports of

torture, sexual abuse, even rumors of the gang rape of female

protesters.

On the other side of the lines, one gets the feeling that any escalation

in tactics that has taken place since August 5 has been a reaction to

heightening police violence or to the ways that private companies

facilitate this violence—such as the company that runs the MTR, which

has made a massive fortune building private malls and apartments

adjacent to their subway stations, or the New Town Mall, the shopping

center that inexplicably allowed squads of riot police to storm it and

bloody the floors of one of the city’s oldest consumer citadels. The

struggle often resembles a blood feud between protesters and the police.

Last week, the police laid siege to Prince Edward MTR station. They

rushed into a subway car, began indiscriminately beating anyone who

looked like a protester, and left the victims in a bloody heap on the

station floor, prohibiting them from receiving medical aid. They

transformed the station into a sealed internment camp for hours,

disappearing three people who are rumored to have been beaten to death.

As the stakes continue to rise in the conflict, this spiral of

retribution is likely to continue. With so many people fixated on live

feeds, aghast at what is transpiring before their eyes daily—journalists

losing their eyes, bystanders being apprehended for questioning police

authority—this fixation on the police is difficult to break, though

certain threads on LIHKG have been started to plead with those in the

struggle to look at the larger picture rather than concentrating all

their efforts on acts of popular vengeance against the police. Such acts

are clearly encouraged by the police themselves, who need a sensational

retroactive alibi for their activity—to such an extent that they have

been caught disguising themselves in the frontlines in order to throw

Molotov cocktails.

Loath as we are to admit it, this struggle thrives on police violence.

We should address and reflect upon this.

For example, on August 11, a medic behind the frontlines lost an eye

after she was hit by a rubber bullet. This was hardly accidental

“collateral damage”—the police have been aiming at peoples’ heads for a

while now. The next day, a huge mobilization took place at the airport,

with a meme demanding that the police return an eye going viral,

supplying a powerful emotional impetus to the events of that afternoon.

That evening, protesters made a citizen’s arrest, apprehending two

people suspected of being agents of the Chinese communist party and

skirmishing with elite airport police squads.

As long as the struggle continues to feed on popular indignation aroused

by police transgressions, pleading for a higher tribunal to bring the

police to justice—be that the United States, the Western world, or the

United Nations—its momentum will be contingent on police provocation and

it will remain arrested at the precise point that social struggles in

Hong Kong have yet to overcome: the righteous indignation of the

citizen.

What will happen when the reservoir of civic outrage about this or that

injustice is exhausted? Is it necessary for those in the struggle to

always situate themselves on the higher moral ground, legitimizing their

illegal activity as a reaction to the excesses of the state? How can

they take the initiative, take the offensive? This doesn’t necessarily

mean striking first in a physical sense, but “becoming-active” in the

sense Nietzsche spoke of, dispensing with the “slave morality” of

dependence upon—and fascination with—the enemy.

The scandal of police violence has polarized the city to such an extent

that entire neighborhoods have come out in support of the black-clad,

gas-masked protesters amassed outside police stations in various

districts. The most famous of these events took place in Wong Tai Sin

and Kwai Chung, where hundreds of people came downstairs in shorts and

flip-flops to harangue the police, making one officer so unnerved that

he pulled a loaded rifle on unarmed uncles and aunties. Police violence

has also served as a nucleus to organize various neighborhood endeavors

around. For example, in an effort to combat misinformation spread by

mainstream media outlets, people have held neighborhood screenings in

public squares so people can see the footage what really happened;

likewise, the space adjacent to the information counter of New Town Mall

in Sha Tin has been transformed into a counter-information bureau,

staffed by protesters who are always available to chat with curious

passersby. Meanwhile, the “Lennon Walls” that have emerged in every

district, typically around public housing estates, have become convivial

sites as well as places of deadly confrontation and murderous rage; as

banal as their content often is, it has been necessary to defend the

walls of post-it notes against late-night arsonists and knife-wielding

thugs. These neighborhood initiatives are momentous and important. They

may indicate a path out of the impasses of the present, possibly

stretching into a nebulous future held in common.

This brings us to our final point regarding the question about what

makes the movement survive. One thing that surprises friends who come to

visit Hong Kong from elsewhere is the unity and unanimity of the

movement, which has seen insurgents of all manner of ideological

persuasions and backgrounds working together on concrete actions rather

than squabbling over ideological niceties. Adherence to this unanimity

has been almost religious, a mantra that has been repeated ad nauseam on

message boards every time a dispute arises that could jeopardize it. The

significance of this solidarity in everybody’s eyes, this consensus that

keeps the mass together against the continued efforts of the state to

exploit tactical disagreements within the struggle, is summarized in a

hilariously over-the-top statement: “I won’t excommunicate anybody from

the struggle even if they decide to detonate a nuclear bomb.” The gulf

between pacifists and Molotov-throwing insurgents still runs deep, but

these are not roles that are set in stone. While the ranks of those at

the front continue to be decimated by mass arrests, some who were

spectators a few weeks ago are moving to fill these gaps. Message boards

and Telegram channels offer circuits of communication for both sides to

exchange reflections and feedback after each episode of struggle. This

is marvelous in many ways; it is undoubtedly a formidable achievement

that it has persisted for so long and will conceivably persist for a

long time yet.

At the same time, the enforcement of this unanimity obscures systemic

problems in the movement and forbids people to evaluate them, something

that we will shed further light on later in this interview. It goes

without question that it is necessary to sustain popular morale in a

mass movement, that we must constantly attend to the affective climate

of the struggle, that people should encourage one another in times of

tumult and despair. But when this affirmative ambience masks an aversion

to difference, divergence, and disputation, for fear of alienating

people and diminishing the turnouts to the demonstrations, positivity

begins to be indistinguishable from paranoia—and the singularity of each

person present is effectively nullified, everyone being reduced to a

body standing alongside other bodies en masse.

This atmosphere makes it very difficult to conduct a critique,

especially of highly questionable phenomena such as the waving of

American or colonial flags. Throughout the struggle, the principle of

liberal tolerance has been weaponized in an unprecedented way—brothers

and sisters, you have your opinions and I have mine, we all respect each

other’s right to hold contrary opinions, so long as they don’t threaten

to create antagonism among us. The fact that this has worked up until

now is no proof that it is healthy for the future of social struggle in

Hong Kong. This sort of culture pretends to marginalize no one while

effectively marginalizing everyone, excluding everyone from engaging

with questions that could be painful, disquieting, or unsettling, that

require us to probe the depths and confront the conditions that

constitute us as subjects. To do so, we would have to go beyond the

trauma of immediate events and confront a trauma of much vaster

scope—the “order” that we participate in reproducing on a continuous

basis.

After all, it is this “order” that renders certain people effectively

invisible. For example, few have stopped to consider the plight of

foreign domestic workers over the last few months. Ordinarily, every

Sunday, these women congregate en masse in the public squares of major

districts including Central, Causeway Bay, Mong Kok, and Yuen Long, all

of which have been swept by clashes in the recent conflicts. Not having

access to the real-time maps that are created for partisans, they are

often not forewarned when these areas are being gassed. Consequently,

they are forced to move somewhere else on their only day off.[3] This

would be an unfortunate but acceptable consequence of the struggle, if

only protesters made some kind of effort to acknowledge this and

communicate their sympathies to them.

Ordinarily, the situation of domestic workers goes without notice,

despite the fact that so many families in the city employ them; hardly

anyone affirms the brave, sustained protests they organize via their

independent unions against the arrangements between their own

governments, the employment agencies, and the labor department in this

city. Their active support for and perceptive understanding of local

social struggles goes unremarked. At the same time, participants in the

movement against the extradition law go out of their way to solicit the

sympathy of upstanding citizens of “the free world,” taking the time to

explain the plight of Hong Kong to tourists arriving at the airport.

This is currently a major blind spot in the struggle. Having been left

unexamined, it recently culminated in a grotesque and inexcusable

campaign against domestic migrant workers hanging out in the public

places where clashes have taken place. Over a period of weeks, LIHKG

threads appeared asking why migrant workers were allowed to congregate

and have picnics on the street while protesters were arrested and

tortured for participating in “illegal assemblies.” Their

tongue-and-cheek tone did not conceal the repulsive implications of

their content. Why the double standard, these posters asked—shouldn’t we

force these nonchalant, karaoke-singing aunties, enjoying themselves

while protesters feared for their skins, to understand what kind of city

they were living in? Why were we being denied the license to protest

when they could have parties on the street without ever having to submit

a request to some government bureau?

All this nonsense came to a head a few days ago, when some complete

idiots started pasting stickers on public thoroughfares and bridges

stating that all foreign domestic workers are not welcome to hang out in

public places without a license. These disgusting stickers represent the

tragically stunted extent to which protesters have attempted to

communicate with the sizable population of migrant workers whose plight

nobody has taken the time to contemplate and ponder—before, during, and

likely after this struggle. Admittedly, those who made and posted the

stickers should not be considered representative of the movement at

large, but at the same time, they have not been openly denounced in

pubic.

The “order” that characterizes daily life in this society also

reproduces the noxious sexist culture that has repeatedly reared its

ugly head within the movement. Protesters have unearthed the Instagram

profiles of policewomen and called them whores that they would like to

violate; demonstrators taunt policemen by suggesting that their wives

are out banging other men while they’re gassing people late at night;

hot-blooded chest-beating male protesters prevent women from standing in

the frontlines, or pledge on message boards to “defend their women” from

being captured and raped by police forces. When news of sexual abuse and

possible rapes in the police stations first spread and women on LIHKG

put forward the idea of organizing women’s marches, men began to panic,

worrying that maybe the women had it in their heads to march on their

own without the protection of men. This led to the ludicrous spectacle

of men swearing that even if they weren’t permitted to march alongside

their sisters, that they would stand behind the march in full gear

prepared to defend them to the end. That was their idea of militancy.

We don’t mention all this stuff to further the proliferation of “cancel

culture,” which all too often results in sanctimonious disengagement,

moral soapboxing, and the perpetuation of social stratification, none of

which do anything to alter the social relationships that we are all

entangled in. Rather, we want to acknowledge the mess we’re in and the

fact that this mess is far more complicated than the simplistic

narrative of an oppressed, victimized people pushed to the wall by a

ruthless “communist” killing machine.

As long as examining these problems is treated as peripheral or

demoralizing on the grounds that the most pressing exigency is to

vanquish the Great Beast China, we will see little progress towards

accomplishing the purported aim of this struggle, “liberating Hong

Kong.”

When we communicated in June, you described an inchoate new social

momentum, a sort of headless nationalist populism arising from the

failures of past pacifist, democratic, and parliamentarian movements.

Have new leaders, new narratives, new internal structures of control

emerged yet? Have new frameworks or horizons opened up for what people

could fight for or imagine beyond national sovereignty?

No, things haven’t changed in a dramatic way since the last time we

spoke. The general understanding is that those who take part in the

movement have to speak in a unanimous, collective, and consensual voice,

as opposed to a multiplicity of different, possibly dissensual ones.

In Telegram groups and message boards, one encounters the occasional

voice calling for Hong Kong’s independence; while one cannot escape the

sense that this desire is tacitly held by a good many participants in

the struggle, they are often shouted down, for fear that the movement

will lose sight of its immediate agenda (the five demands) and out of a

general wariness of the dangers attendant to articulating this desire—as

establishment politicians have repeatedly asserted that this struggle is

not really “about” the five demands but is actually a “color revolution”

organized by foreign powers and separatists, and the Chinese press have

repeatedly reiterated this narrative. In addition, there is the fact

that for many who continue to cross the border for work or other

personal reasons, the independence of Hong Kong would not be a welcome

development. There are a lot of people who simply want to see the “one

country, two systems” stipulation that was outlined in the Basic Law

observed and enforced.

For the benefit of foreign friends who are unfamiliar with the political

and cultural climate here, we have to emphasize that—at least in our

estimation—rumors about the impending demise of liberalism as a

political culture are unfounded, at least as far as Hong Kong is

concerned. We would go so far as to suggest that the logic of

liberalism, understood as a form of intuitive “common sense,” may be

stronger here than anywhere else in the world. Much of this has to do

with the context that we elaborated upon in our previous interview, with

the fact that this city was built by refugees from communist China. The

following anecdote illuminates the ways in which this condition is not

simply endemic to Hong Kong, but is shared with kin on the mainland as

well.

At a panel on the subject of art and politics that took place a few

years ago, one of us participated in a discussion with a dear friend

from a certain punk rock capital in China, where resistance against

gentrification and the construction of “ecological theme parks” is

ongoing. Talking late into the night afterwards, over drinks and blunts,

that friend began to expound upon the difficulties of speaking about

anarchy in China. As Mao made so eloquently clear in his red notebooks

and essays, the Communist Party is the anarchic force, the “constituent

power” that transcends and enforces the arche as it sees fit,

instituting a perpetual state of emergency for the sake of the

revolution; consequently, quotidian life in China is “anarchic” on a

mundane level. That is to say—when comrades in the West speak of “use”

(in the sense in which Agamben employs the term in The Use Of Bodies) in

reference to occupying plazas, throwing parties on the streets, and so

on, this term loses its meaning in China when such “use” of roads and

public thoroughfares in various parts of the country is an everyday

occurrence, there being no established protocols that distinguish the

proper use of “public space” from an exceptional use.

Chinese police have the license to operate entirely outside their

professional remit, behaving in ways that would be unfathomable anywhere

else. For example, until recently, our friends in the aforementioned

district of China ran a common space that held cultural events open to

the villagers that live around the area. This space was open to all

comers, its doors being unlocked at all times; drifters and vagrants

would stumble in, often staying for days or weeks. This also meant that

plainclothes policemen would come to the space when they were “off

duty,” offering gifts of American cigarettes, alcohol, and car rides

into town, buddying up to the inhabitants of the space while making it

clear that the police were very much aware of the fact that the

participants were opposed to gentrification in the area. “We’re

friends—you wouldn’t mess around and ruin our friendship, would you?”

The same policemen were doing this with villagers in the area, inviting

themselves to tea at villagers’ houses and lavishing them with gifts

while gently reminding them that visiting the space up the hill was very

much discouraged, that they could become persona non grata if they

mingled with the folks living there. A horrific situation, to be sure.

In such conditions, in which everybody is compelled to live in a

permanent state of exception, enmeshed in elaborate networks of formal

and informal surveillance, our friend told us that to many people,

liberalism—the rule of law, a rule that would enforce private property,

proper boundaries that they imagine would safeguard the individual from

state powers—appeared to be the most radical thing that there was.

When friends ask us why “anti-capitalist” discourse and rhetoric seem so

outlandish to people in Hong Kong, we must answer that this is very much

a matter of context and circumstance. For Hong Kongers, capitalism

represents enterprise, initiative, and self-reliance, which they

juxtapose with the corrupt nepotism of the party and the big Hong Kong

tycoons and politicos who ingratiate themselves into the company of this

cartel. Beyond “capitalism,” however, we find the sacredness of the law,

which remains the transcendent horizon beyond which social struggle has

yet to cross. Yes, everybody across the world continues to bear witness

to the feats of heroism that black shirts take part in every

day—reducing the façades and machines of subway stations to rubble,

devastating police stations, and the like—but there is still a latent

belief that this is all done on behalf of preserving the rule of law and

the institutions that specific personnel have betrayed.

Seen in this light, all these acts of illegality can be apprehended as a

means of reminding the authorities that the “mandate of heaven” has been

withdrawn from them. While it might seem “mythological” to utilize an

archaic conceit to describe current events, as if we were speaking about

a “collective millenarian Chinese unconscious” that has persisted from

the ancient dynasties up to the present, it remains apposite, because

everything leads us to believe that we continue to live in mythical

times. How else can we explain the continual appeals to the courtiers of

the “international community,” utilizing the international mass media as

a tribunal through which we hope to gain an audience with the

emperor—i.e., the United States? There remains the faith that at a

higher court of appeal, the criminality of the rogue states that govern

us can be brought to justice and punished, in the name of elemental,

natural rights that have been violated in the full light of day.

Somewhere, we believe, even if only in the hearts of decent,

right-thinking people everywhere, there is a sense of solidarity with

this primordial and transcendent law, and justice will be done, justice

will descend from the skies.

It’s all depressingly Kantian, actually. The failings of the local

police do nothing to discredit the Idea of the Police, who will arrive

on some messianic day.

So the question the movement has posed itself seems to be this: what

would it take for us to put together a case that would compel the Police

to action? How do we convince the magistrates that this crisis has to be

at the head of their list of priorities? Here we are, gathering and

archiving evidence with our very bodies, amassing recriminations and

grievances from all quarters in our inquest into a failed state,

soliciting influencers everywhere to speak on our behalf, in the hope

that all this blood will be redeemed by prosecution and legitimate

retribution. When civil disobedience escalates into property damage,

street fights, airport occupations, and general strikes only to meet

with state indifference, then the popular imagination begins to conceive

of ways to precipitate the ultimate catastrophe, the arrival of the

People’s Liberation Army into Hong Kong, an event that many anticipate

would be the catalyst for international intervention. Surely the Police

wouldn’t ignore us then?

This is the apocalyptic disaster theory that is beginning to circulate

on LIHKG and elsewhere, the embrace of “common collapse,” a “let’s all

burn together” fantasy in which protesters imagine the city being

swallowed up in the abyss, awaiting international sanctions on a

Communist Party gone amok. In this hypothetical scenario, as a

consequence of the unrest in Hong Kong spreading into the mainland like

some sort of variant of the Arab Spring, China—reeling from the pressure

of tightening international trade embargoes—balkanizes and fractures

into a multiplicity of territories, each formally and juridically

independent (such as Fujian, Wuhan, Xinjiang) alongside a democratic

Hong Kong, which might form a state with Guangzhou.

While the consequences of such a development are left unexplored—for

example, the fact that these “autonomous” territories would be lorded

over by party apparatchiks all the same—this speculative perspective is

welcome on one level. If nothing else, it represents an effort to come

to terms with a future that could be completely different from the one

that we have been habitually accustomed to in times of affluence—a

future in which our internet could be shut off, in which we would have

to work collectively to secure food, water and electricity, such

questions being imperative as the world continues to fall to pieces and

ecological disaster looms ominously on the horizon.

For others, the imagined catastrophe is seen as a means by which to

restore Hong Kong’s rightful place among the foremost cities of the

world, something that is indicated in the most popular slogan of the

struggle: “Restore Hong Kong to glory, revolution of our times.” The

“glory” referenced in the slogan is a fantasy of prelapsarian purity—the

Hong Kong of hard work, the individual initiative of the honest,

entrepreneurial common man, whose life is unsullied by the machinations

of big politics.

While it’s fine to hypothesize about a situation of common ruin, why

can’t we also think about how to create the material basis for everyone

to thrive and flourish together? And what could this “together” mean,

who does it encompass, when everyone we customarily exclude from the

picture—ethnic minorities and their second-generation offspring,

domestic migrant workers, new migrants from China, and mainlanders who

await the right of abode—is implicated in the future of the city? Why do

we believe that these questions should be deferred until a government is

elected to address them, when there are so many instances of autonomy in

this struggle that could serve as premises upon which to develop these

conversations right now?

Almost three months into the unrest, what are the goals and

strategies—avowed or implicit—of different currents within the movement?

As we mentioned above, the tacit intention of the struggle at this point

in time is to find the means to escalate the situation until that the

“global community” is compelled to intervene. Maintaining mass

mobilizations and creating affecting viral spectacles that can be

disseminated on international networks—such as the “human chains” of

protesters holding hands on sidewalks and, more recently, outside

secondary schools during the student strikes—keeps the struggle at the

forefront of public attention. More immediately, continued

insubordination in the subway, in busy commercial areas, and at sites

such as the airport—including protesters finding novel ways to shut down

traffic going towards the airport without violating the letter of the

law—is thought to have discernible effects on the economy, tourist

traffic, foreign investment, and the like. Meanwhile,

counter-surveillance measures have become customary practices, including

felling the RFID-equipped “smart lamp posts” installed in several

neighborhoods and spraying or dismantling CCTV cameras before big

demonstrations.

All this points to an intuitive understanding of a reality that the blog

Dialectical Delinquents has outlined very well over a number of years

(and we thank them for their continued painstaking efforts to sketch the

rapidly emerging contours of this reality): Hong Kong is poised at the

forefront of a struggle against the Sinification of the world. That is,

it appears to us that, with neoliberalism dying a drawn-out, protracted

death under the weight of mass revolts that all advocate secession from

neoliberal global arrangements, the Chinese variant of the authoritarian

surveillance state, complete with a panoply of carceral camps and

quasi-legal institutions, is the only means by which the world as we

know it can be held together by coercive force. We are not the only ones

who perceive this; not so long ago, Dialectical Delinquents featured an

interview with a Huawei executive that is illuminating in its

frankness.[4]

As we described in our previous interview, Xinjiang is at the back of

everyone’s minds, and the horror of Xinjiang, coupled with the rapid

introduction of surveillance apparatuses across the city, gives the

struggle a pronounced apocalyptic flavor: it is reiterated time and

again that if we do not win, we will find ourselves in internment camps.

We are in general agreement with this, but it is imperative that we

recognize that we are waging the same “hand to hand fight” [Agamben,

What Is An Apparatus?] against these apparatuses as countless other

insurgents across the world—that China is not the great Satan that “the

free world” can deliver us from, the Antichrist that we have to slay at

all costs, but a shadow from the future, a shadow looming over a

disintegrating planet.

It goes without saying that China serves as a welcome distraction for

Western audiences as well, offering Western governments the opportunity

to decry Chinese excesses in order to parade their commitment to “human

rights” while killing and jailing their own populations.

Let’s talk about the tensions and contradictions internal to the

movement. Outside Hong Kong, we have heard a lot about protesters

displaying the British flag, singing the Star-Spangled Banner, sharing

Pepe the frog memes, and employing other symbols of Western nationalism.

How visible has this been on the ground inside the movement? Has there

been pushback?

We are sure that many of you will have seen images of the action that

took place a week ago in which people congregated in full black bloc

regalia outside the American embassy, waving American flags, singing the

American national anthem, and exhorting the White House to pass an act

on Hong Kong as promptly as possible. This led us to make the tragicomic

observation that Hong Kong might be the only place in the world where

the black bloc carries American flags.[5]

Many “flag-bearers” are dismissive of the critiques directed their way;

this characterizes those who support the continued appeals to the White

House in general. When a comrade from the US came to visit us recently,

he approached the flag-bearers and made no secret of his contempt for

his own government. “Fuck The USA!” was his pithy opening remark, before

he elaborated upon the murders perpetrated daily by the American state

machine. This exchange was captured by a student press and circulated on

Facebook for a few hours, engendering discussion and debate. Many of the

comments were revealing: they dismissed our American comrade as the

“American variant of left plastic” [an insulting term for old-fashioned

leftists explained in our previous interview] and accused him of being

an ignoramus. “Do you really think we are American patriots? We are just

being practical, enlisting the help of somebody who can really help us!”

They insisted that singing the American anthem, waving the American

flag, and publicly declaring how much they admire the American way of

life are just calculated appeals to the powerful sentimentality of

actual American patriots. (Some such patriots have made the trip to Hong

Kong, such as fascist organizer Joey Gibson, who had a blast taking

selfies with unsuspecting protesters only too glad to applaud a

hot-blooded flag-waving American who appeared friendly to the cause.)

The flag-bearers claim that those who criticize the flag-waving are

naïve: they don’t know that the message that they are sending is a

double-coded one. On the anniversary of September 11, some called for a

city-wide cessation of protest activity in commemoration of those who

lost their lives on 9/11—yet another shrewd move aimed at winning

American sympathy. As clever as these play-actors think they are with

their cunning grasp of realpolitik, the joke is on them—and, ultimately,

on us if we fail to shatter this ongoing fascination with the sham

tug-of-war between the “great powers” of the world.

Many friends from the West have asked us repeatedly whether this

sentiment is shared by a vast proportion of the struggle, or whether

this fixation with the West is a fringe phenomenon. Let’s put it this

way: at the present moment, anything that bears any relation to China is

fair game for defacement and desecration—the government insignia is

destroyed, flags are torn off of poles and thrown in the water, the

premises of banks and even insurance companies that bear the name

“China” are covered in tags, the shutters of “China Life Insurance”

recently having been tagged with “I Don’t Want A Chinazi Life.” If a

storefront bearing visible American iconography were attacked in the

same way (say, by us), we fear that we would likely be stopped.

We should also add that of late it is not simply American flags that are

seen at protests, but the flags of other “friendly” members of the G20

as well—Canada, Germany, France, Japan, the UK, and the like—with the

flag of the Ukraine also making an unfortunate appearance last week,

presumably because screenings of “Winter On Fire” have been taking place

in public squares and the public has little knowledge of what that

documentary conveniently omits.

Meanwhile, there have been continued campaigns urging the United Kingdom

to assume responsibility for the foundlings it left behind by issuing

BNO (British National Overseas) passports to Hong Kong citizens once

more. Though this passport does not grant its holder the right of abode

in the UK, nor guarantee consular protection, for some it seems to

embody the hope of escape from a city that many are beginning to regard

as a death trap. “I’d rather be a second- or third-class citizen in a

Western country than be thrown in a thought correction camp,” someone

commented weeks ago on a message board thread.

Seen in this light, the waving of Western flags seems less like a deft

act of strategic cunning and more like a desperate and pious plea for an

almighty deliverer. This is a deadly mixture of fear and naïveté—the two

feeding off and compounding each other—that we are making efforts to

combat. Our American friends recently gave us a marvelous slogan that we

hope to spread everywhere: “Chinazi & Amerikkka: Two Countries, One

System.”

Which institutions and mythologies have lost legitimacy in the public

eye in the course of the unrest? Which have retained or gained

legitimacy? Can you describe the success or failure of efforts to

critique these institutions and mythologies, or at least to open up

dialogue about them?

As we described in the previous interview, for many years, it was

believed that there were two paths in social struggle: pacifist, civic,

and genteel protests accessible to housewives, the elderly, and others

who could not hazard the risk of arrest, and bellicose, confrontational

participation in the frontlines, employing various kind of direct

action. These two paths persist, but what is unprecedented in the

current situation is that both are illegal: the government rejects

applications for protests and every assembly is de facto prohibited,

however innocuous it may be. Simply being physically present at or near

the scene of an illegal assembly already constitutes grounds for arrest

and detention. When you are sitting on the subway train or the bus home,

you never know whether riot squads will storm the vehicle and proceed to

beat the life out of everyone on board, whether vigilantes have tipped

you off to the cops or are following you home, whether the triads will

be out in force where you live late at night. Partisanship renders you

into a body that can be maimed, tortured and—it appears—killed by those

whose acts are authorized in the name of “order.” As the guardians of

order make clear, we are “cockroaches,” pests to be exterminated and

disposed of so that business can proceed as usual.

In addition, professing sympathy for the struggle could very well leave

you unemployed if you work for a company that has longstanding ties with

the Chinese market. Consider the high-profile case of Cathay Pacific,

the upper management of which demanded a list of members of a union that

had participated in the movement or helped to leak flight information of

the police; this company is carrying out a thoroughgoing purge of

partisans among their staff, directed by careerist snitches among the

crew.

Teachers at school who tutored you in algebra just a few months ago

could aid in your arrest; principals and heads of departments stand idly

by as riot squads seize you and your friends outside your school

building. This is the reality that protesters are becoming rapidly

habituated to. As a consequence, networks of mutual assistance have

rapidly formed to address the situation, offering employment, shelter,

transport, and meals to those in need.

In short: the future, as a horizon of foreseeable advancement, an

itinerary of fulfillable and forestalled plans and projections, has

collapsed, and we are left consulting, moment by moment, the live maps

drawn in real time by volunteer cartographers, telling us which stations

to avoid, which roads to take a detour around, which neighborhoods are

presently being gassed. Daily life itself becomes a series of tactical

maneuvers, everyone having to exercise caution about what they say at

lunch in cafĂŠs and canteens lest they are overheard and reported,

experimenting with different ways to ride the subways for free without

being too obvious about it, inventing codes to use on instant messaging

or social media that evade quick decryption. It is quite extraordinary

that so many are willing to forego the craven comforts and conveniences

of the metropolis, the enjoyment of anonymity as they go about their

business. It is necessary to find and maintain clandestinity in other

ways.

It is impossible to deny that through it all, a sense of invention and

adventure saturates the minutiae of our waking lives.

What would it take for the unrest to spread to mainland China—if not in

this movement, in some future sequel to it? Or do the premises of the

movement itself render that impossible?

For one, it would require us to confront the sobering fact that Hong

Kong is beholden to China for much of our food and water. This alone

should make it evident that any successful revolt here must necessarily

involve active support from comrades in the regions that surround Hong

Kong. This practical imperative would more readily find an audience here

than abstract arguments, as Hong Kongers notoriously exhibit little

patience for discussions about ideology.

Here we should note that this point is a contentious one; several in our

collective suggest that this dependence is a point of intense resentment

for many in Hong Kong, particularly as it is a consequence of nefarious

political arrangements that have seen the gradual decimation of much of

Hong Kong’s agricultural land in the northeast territories, which was

cleared to make way for private residential compounds that are often

subject to foreign (and mainland) speculation, as well as the grotesque

water import deal that we have with Guangdong. That is—this dependence

merely reinforces the ardor for independence and sovereignty rather than

attenuates it.

Another necessary step would be to let go of the fantasy that Hong Kong

is exceptional, the way people imagine the city as a world-class liberal

entrepĂ´t populated with free-minded, liberty-loving cosmopolitans, in

contrast to the bootlicking, crass, and brainwashed peasants up north.

Trite as it may sound, we have to empty “Hong Kong identity” of any

positive content—all of its pretensions of civilization, urbanity, and

enlightenment—in order to make way for the consummate negativity of

proletarian revolt, which can cut decisively through the divisive

brouhaha generated by governments on both sides of the border. It has to

be said that whenever there has been an upheaval or report of a “mass

incident” in China during this struggle, people have paid close

attention.

Many have also explored inventive avenues for “smuggling” information to

mainlanders, even going so far as to edit porn videos on Chinese adult

sites, substituting footage of police brutality in Hong Kong for the

money shots. This reminds us of our favorite ancient Chinese rebellions,

in which contraband information circulated through parchment hidden in

buns and pastries.

As we mentioned above, there are those who volubly advocate

“independence” and “autonomy” for each region in China, the

balkanization of the country following the collapse of the Communist

party (the latter being the priority, the former being regarded as

simply a favorable consequence). Yet for others a more plausible

eventuality, considering how folks over the border are often imagined as

lost sheep watched over by an almighty shepherd, is the hope that Hong

Kong’s sovereignty will be backed up by the threat of international

military force, its border policed so that our destiny is decoupled from

that of the Chinese.

Dismantling this ideological matrix and undermining the bases of Hong

Kong cultural identity in favor of dangerous cross-border work is deeply

unpleasant and unpopular work. Truth be told, few of us know how to go

about doing it on a significant scale, especially since all the

information channels on the Mainland are subject to comprehensive

controls. Our friends on the mainland have made extensive efforts to

disseminate information regarding this struggle on message boards and

social media, but this information is often swiftly removed and their

accounts are quickly banned.

You can imagine how daunting this task is, the difficulty being

magnified by its urgency—especially now that crowds are beginning to

form choruses to sing a newly-penned “Hong Kong national anthem” in

public spaces.

Give us a rundown on the tactical and technical innovations that have

occurred over the past months and what they have enabled participants to

do that was previously impossible. Imagine that you are addressing

people who will be in a similar situation to yours at some point in the

future.

Years from now, we will continue to look back and marvel at all the

incredible things that emerged in response to the concrete problems that

insurgents have faced over the course of the past three months.

In response to teenagers having no homes to return to because they were

practically “disowned” by their parents for attending demonstrations and

remaining on the streets when states of emergency were declared, people

created a network of open apartments to which young partisans could

retreat and stay temporarily. In response to minibuses, buses, and

subway trains no longer being safe for escaping protesters, carpool

networks were formed via Telegram to “pick kids up from school.” We

encountered elderly drivers who didn’t even know how to operate

Telegram, but who drove repeatedly around the “hot spots” reported by

the radio news, watching for running protesters who needed a quick ride

out of danger.

In response to young people not having any work or enough money to buy

food at the front lines, working people prepared supplies of supermarket

and restaurant coupons and handed these out to people in gear before

large-scale confrontations. This remarkable fact is often used by

conservatives to suggest that foreign powers are behind this “color

revolution,” because… where did all the money for these coupons come

from? There has to be somebody bankrolling this! They cannot fathom that

any worker would be willing to reach into his own pockets in order to

help a person that he does not know.

In response to the suffering, trauma, and sleeplessness induced by

long-term exposure to tear gas and police violence, whether experienced

first-hand or via graphic live feeds, support networks appeared offering

counsel and care. In response to kids not having enough time to do their

homework because they are out on the streets all night, Telegram

channels appeared offering free tutoring services. In response to

students “not being able to have an education” because they were on

strike, people organized seminars on all manner of political subjects at

schools that were sympathetic to the cause and also in public spaces.

Meanwhile, people have started chat rooms on Telegram to discuss

subjects that protesters may be curious about; we are in the process of

starting one ourselves. The subject matter might be technical (how to

take a subway ticket machine apart, how to pass through a turnstile

without paying), it might be historical (we recently saw one about the

French Revolution), it might be spiritual, or about self-defense and

martial arts.

All of these efforts are breathtaking in their breadth and efficiency.

Affinity groups form to make Molotovs and test them out in forests.

Others develop friendships and trust playing war games in the woods,

setting up simulations of crossfire with the police. Impromptu martial

arts dojos are held in parks and rooftops. Say what you want about

people in this city, they are extraordinary at solving practical

problems with minimal fuss.

This struggle has played a pedagogical role for everyone who has

participated in it. It is a phenomenological pedagogy in which the city

that we inhabit has acquired an entirely new significance through the

process of the struggle—every aspect of every city has taken on a deep

tactical significance. You have to know which areas are frequented by

triads; every bend in the road and cul-de-sac could make a difference in

whether you come out of a demonstration in one piece. Over the last few

months, we have found ourselves in neighborhoods that are foreign to us,

but even the neighborhoods we have grown up in all our lives become

strange to us when we are fleeing from rushing riot squads or perusing

message board threads full of stories shared by those who, thanks to

their employment or background, are intimately acquainted with aspects

of the city that we could never access on our own. Couple this with the

extraordinary real-time maps drawn by teams to indicate zones of danger

and avenues of escape and you begin to grasp how the last three months

have been an accelerated psychogeographic and cartographic tour of our

city, the value of which is inestimable both for this struggle and those

to come.

Of course, at the end of the day, it isn’t simply about those on the

streets; there are many, even in our own collective, who prefer for

various reasons not to be where street fights take place. The monumental

contributions of those who draw maps and supply real-time information

off-site, tirelessly verifying the accuracy of the data that continually

streams in from a multiplicity of channels, have been instrumental in

ensuring the safety of partisans and the elimination of false news

(certain accounts on message boards continuously spread false

information on a regular basis, the purpose of which remains unknown).

It’s also meaningful that people take the time, after exhausting street

combat, to collectively debate the finer points of tactics on Telegram

channels and message boards, openly and in a comradely spirit. This is

what makes it possible to accomplish each projected initiative—be it

shutting down a subway line, a highway to the airport, or the airport

itself—even if, as in the case of the subway line, early attempts are

tentative and unsuccessful. The will to accomplish objectives must be

coupled with the collective determination to create the informational

infrastructure to make it happen.

What can people outside Hong Kong do to support arrestees and prisoners

in this movement—specifically anti-authoritarian ones? Are there other

things you would like to see people elsewhere in the world do to support

you?

In the coming days, we will disclose information about a global

solidarity action that we are coordinating with some friends overseas.

Watch this space!

Also, it would be extremely helpful if you would publish your own

literature about the state of affairs that we are all facing, at this

historical moment, in regard to China and the continuing development of

surveillance technologies around the world. We cannot allow the

narrative of this struggle to revolve simply around self-righteous

denunciations of the Communist Party. The party is absolutely worthy of

our contempt, but we must not imagine that the evil of this world is

concentrated in China, we cannot allow this farcical facsimile of the

Cold War with its laughable division between the upstanding citizens of

the “free world” and the sentinels of 1984 to divert us from the demands

of our time and the project of hastening the ruin of everything that

continues to separate us from the life that awaits us.

Spread the spirit of proletarian mockery. Let us laugh in every language

we know!

[1] A sponge grenade is like a rubber bullet, except about twenty times

larger and tipped with styrofoam sponge instead of rubber.

[2] Triads are gang members involved in the racketeering organizations

that have a long history in Hong Kong and Mainland China. Their

genealogy stretches all the way back to the secret societies that

opposed the Qing Dynasty during the imperial period, a case study in how

revolutionary organizations are recuperated.

[3] By Hong Kong law, employers are only required to give their helpers

one day off a week and many find ways to contravene this law.

[4] You can consult the interview here, along with many more examples of

China’s extensive networks of control that the curator has collected

over years of painstaking research.

[5] Editor’s note: Sadly, this is not true. In Germany, where black bloc

tactics originated, some “anti-Deutsch” left radicals became famous for

marching with American flags, often in black bloc formations. The

stupidity of seeking salvation from one empire in the arms of another

knows no borders—and militancy alone is no proof against it.