Critical political commentary is flourishing in Hong Kong, but it is not without risk
The two instances when China opened itself up to criticism were swiftly followed by a crackdown on critics who stepped forward, something Hong Kong needs to be wary of
As Hong Kong’s summer of discontent trudges on, certain unexpected themes have emerged. Probably the most unusual is newly rediscovered critical comment. Refreshing levels of editorial frankness in various publications – unseen even six months ago – are now commonplace. Let’s face it, for several years, many local political commentators, radio and television broadcasters and print journalists have fallen over backwards to accommodate unseen editorial “red lines” regarding official criticism.
No names are necessary; the general public, who followed various journalists and their work over time, can readily discern this sudden shift. Equally, the resounding public silence from usually oh-so-reliable pro-Beijing cheerleaders has been starkly obvious in recent months. Without clear direction, they have little to say.
Historical analogies – and a fearful warning – exist between Hong Kong’s recent explosion of brutally frank, mostly fair, constructively critical public commentary and a similar outpouring that the Communist Party encouraged in late 1956. This campaign was partially initiated in response to growing unrest among China’s intellectuals and the urban bourgeoisie. These groups had initially supported the Communist assumption of power in 1949 – whatever their reservations – as they reasoned that nothing that followed could have been much worse than the rampant corruption, administrative inefficiency and overall societal decline that characterised the collapse of the Nationalist government in 1947-48.
“Let a hundred flowers blossom, let a hundred schools of thought contend!” proclaimed Mao Zedong poetically, as the campaign kicked off. Open discussion of the party’s shortcomings and honest public exploration of possible improvements could only lead to the general betterment for society, and political regeneration for the regime, after the initial challenges of establishing overall power had been achieved. Or so the public were led to believe.
By the summer of 1957, the “Hundred Flowers Campaign” was getting out of hand, as wide-ranging criticism accelerated all over China. Party leaders became alarmed when they could no longer control the narrative, especially when the emerging story was not one that suited their purposes. And so they backtracked, cracking down hard on those they had previously encouraged to speak up.
Having popped their heads so obviously above the political parapet for several months, it was an easy matter to identify regime critics – now labelled “rightists”, “counter-revolutionaries” and all those other epithets common to the communist repertoire of insults – and persecute them and their family members.
Vicious and broad-ranging, the anti-rightist campaign that followed, from 1957 to 1959, marked the effective end, for nearly 30 years, of political debate in China. It was only in the late 1980s that public discussion of the party’s shortcomings and the growing need for political reform was permitted and – for a while – encouraged. That particular movement ended tragically – as the world remembers – on June 4, 1989, in Tiananmen Square.
As history bitterly proved, the “Hundred Flowers Campaign” was a deeply cynical move on the part of the Communist Party to lure potential opponents of the regime into the open. Once identified, the state could isolate and then crush them, one by one.
Are we seeing the beginning of something similar in Hong Kong? Major corporate entities are an obvious target – Cathay Pacific has led the way, with recent grovelling reversals from senior management on free speech. But with enormous corporate exposure to China, what realistic alternative do they have? Other flagship Hong Kong businesses, as the word steadily comes down to “tremble and obey”, will surely follow suit.