I marched on Hong Kong's streets last Tuesday. Like many people, this was the first time I had joined a public protest. Hong Kong has never enjoyed full political rights, but its civil liberties are among the best-respected in the world. What gets people nervous, and rightly so, is that the same cannot, by any stretch of the imagination, be said of the mainland.
The legislation leaves the door wide open for the central government to insert its own definitions of such offences as sedition and subversion into Hong Kong cases. The lack of a clear definition of what constitutes these offences, the proposed powers of the police to enter suspects' homes without a warrant, and the lack of a provision for a public interest defence, do nothing to make people comfortable with the government's assurances that Hong Kong will have the final say in judging what constitutes antisocial behaviour. Such assurances are coming from unelected satraps who have consistently demonstrated their economy with the truth.
At a personal level, the proposed legislation could potentially make it more problematic for me to operate my business from Hong Kong, or indeed to employ local analysts. I live and work in Hong Kong because, aside from really liking the place, I appreciate greatly the ease and efficiency of running an operation here including, crucially, the ability to debate freely, gather information and write what I see fit. No other city in Asia offers the same combination. At the very least, Article 23 will make people who make their livings by disseminating analysis, information and opinion think twice about what they write.
The risk, clearly, is self-censorship. This was evident in some newspapers around the time of the handover, but the past few years have seen a return of much of the media to its combative best. However, the precedents set on the mainland have not been good over the years. Large amounts of information and data on the mainland are classified as either 'for internal circulation only' (nei bu zhuan yong), 'for internal use only' (nei bu wen jian), or the even stronger 'state secret' (guo jia ji mi). The state uses such catch-all categories to control the dissemination of information and to intimidate would-be dissenters.
For example, mainland-born journalist Xi Yang of Hong Kong's Ming Pao newspaper was jailed for 12 years, in 1994, for penning an article discussing interest rate and gold reserves policy (a state secret at the time), while two of my own former colleagues from the investment bank SBC Warburg were detained in 1994 by the Public Security Bureau for including some banking statistics that were intended for internal circulation only, in a report. I would not be surprised if some journalists and commentators started to exercise greater self-restraint.
The near-term conclusion must be continued policy drift and simmering widespread dissatisfaction and resentment. Tuesday's march was notable for the peaceful disposition of the crowd. One cannot be so sure future protests will remain peaceful if the economic malaise continues and incompetent and dishonest ministers are allowed to continue in their old ways unmolested.