關於 king of tibet ，我們在網路上蒐集到這些相關的討論、資訊與評價

【#TheDiplomat: 沈旭暉隨緣家書英文版🇭🇰】很久沒有向國際關係評論網 The Diplomat 供稿，但國際線十分重要，不應放棄。這次他們希望分享23條、國安法、反恐法風雨欲來的「新香港」前瞻，願國際社會能多了解快將出現的危機：

While the world is preoccupied with a fight against the COVID-19 pandemic, Beijing has been tightening its political grip on all aspects of Hong Kong’s civil society. Rumor has it that Beijing will push through legislating national security laws under Article 23 of Hong Kong’s Basic Law by unconventional means, such as massively disqualifying pro-democratic legislators or even directly applying a national law, widely argued as a major step to destroy the rights and freedom of Hong Kongers, and bring Chinese authoritarianism to Hong Kong.

After the 2019 protests, the administration of Carrie Lam, who theoretically is still leading the special administrative region of China, has little political capital at stake, with its legitimacy reaching rock bottom. The pro-government camp has dwindling prospects for the city’s upcoming Legislative Council election. The government‘s ”nothing to lose“ mentality is apparent from its recent blatant reinterpretation of the Basic Law’s Article 22 (another article that limits the influence of China’s offices in Hong Kong’s internal affairs). The debate is nothing new, but the pressure this time is quite different.

This article highlights the different strategies Beijing could adopt to enact Article 23 insidiously or under disguise to avoid backlash from the international community, while continuing to reap benefits from the city’s globally recognized special status. This seems to be part of Beijing’s brinkmanship to bring Hong Kong protesters and their supporters to their knees and move the city closer to authoritarianism. To counter these moves, Hong Kongers must define the boundaries beyond which Hong Kong falls into authoritarian rule and make a case as to why the city’s downfall is detrimental to the international community‘s interest.

The Long-Term Controversy Over National Security Laws

Back in 2003, the implementation of Article 23 was thwarted by the moderate pro-establishment politician James Tien. In face of overwhelming public disapproval of the law, he withdrew support and votes from his Liberal Party. However, 17 years later, it is hard to imagine Beijing following the old legislative playbook: start with a public consultation, followed by public discourse and political debate, and end with the majority rule. This playbook only works in peaceful societies ruled by a trustworthy government with integrity.

The aftermath of 2003, as well as the 2019 protests, should have taught Beijing and the Hong Kong government a lesson: pushing through national security legislation in a flawed parliament controlled by the minority pro-government camp would inevitably set off another full city-scale protest — and undoubtedly more fierce and focused this time. Given the current government’s numerous displays of dishonesty, it is conceivable that they will embark on a less-traveled path to implement Article 23.

Strategy One: “Anti-Terrorism”

In principle, one possible strategy could be to directly enact Chinese national law across Hong Kong, which can be achieved by declaring a state of emergency in the city. However, this is risky business as it would tarnish the integrity of “one country two systems” and subsequently Hong Kong’s international standing. Beijing, a risk-averse regime, is also unwilling to see Hong Kong’s status as a middleman for laundering money disappear into thin air.

Instead, Beijing could be concocting a narrative that would see Chinese national law applied to Hong Kong while not damaging Hong Kong’s international standing and Beijing’s own interests. The key word in this script is “anti-terrorism.” As early as 2014, pro-Beijing scholars have been claiming the emergence of “local terrorist ideology” on Hong Kong soil. Since the anti-extradition bill protests last year, government rhetoric frequently described the protests, which caused no deaths at all in the entire year, with phrases like “inclination to terrorist ideology.” That was a signal to the world that Hong Kong’s internal conflicts had ballooned into a national security issue. This gives the government the legitimacy to justify the implementation of Chinese national laws across the highly autonomous region to counter terrorism. The Chinese government knows that if it can persuade the world that terrorism exists in Hong Kong, and that it is as severe as the terror threat facing many other nations today, the international community will be less critical of Beijing’s actions in Hong Kong. Enacting Chinese laws directly is a convenient path that will save Beijing from having to tackle Hong Kong’s internal conflicts, basically turning the Hong Kong issue into a nonissue.

Strategy Two: Stacking the Legislature by Disqualifying Candidates

An even bolder strategy was probably foretold by a recent incident where the Hong Kong government and Beijing’s agencies for Hong Kong affairs (HKMAO and the Liaison Office) jointly criticized lawmaker Dennis Kwok for filibustering, framing it as “misconduct in public office” and “violating his oath.” It is incomprehensible to claim that filibustering goes against a lawmaker’s main duty; rather, it is common understanding that legislative work includes debating the law and representing public opinion against unreasonable laws. In a parliament controlled by the minority, pro-democratic members representing the majority of Hong Kongers are forced to express their objections using means like filibustering. Wouldn’t a lack of different political opinions turn the legislative branch into a rubber-stamp institution?

The above allegation has set a dangerous precedent for twisting the logic behind a certain provision in the Basic Law to target opposing lawmakers. In other words, to fulfill Beijing’s interpretation of the principal requirement for holding public office in Hong Kong, one could be required to take a meticulously legalistic approach to uphold the Basic Law down to its every single wording. A public official, by this new definition, not only needs to support “one country, two systems” or object Hong Kong independence, but also must abide by every single provision in the Basic Law. Worst of all, based on the previous cases, whether an official’s words or actions oversteps a provision is up to Beijing’s interpretation of his/her “intent.”

If this approach is applied, in the next election, there might be additional official questions for screening candidates like the following: “The Basic Law states that the enactment of Article 23 is a constitutional duty. Failing to support Article 23 legislation violates the Basic Law. Do you support it?” This question would suffice to disqualify even moderate or even pro-establishment candidates like James Tien. Even if any pro-democratic candidates were elected, once Article 23 re-enters the legislative process, they could risk ouster by raising objections.

Despite the absurdity of this tactic, the Chinese regime may just be tempted enough if such a strategy could resolve two of China’s current nuisances — voices of dissent in the Legislative Council and the previous failure to implement Article 23.

Strategy Three: The “Boiling Frog Effect”

Article 23 is not yet implemented, but the dystopian world that the protesters pictured in 2003 is already becoming reality. Regular citizens have been persecuted for “sedition” for sharing their views on social media or participating in legal protests; workers face retaliation for taking part in strikes; corporations are pressured to publicly side with the government’s stance; employees who have the “wrong” political views are fired; schools have been closely monitored for teaching material; protest-supporting fundraisers were framed for money laundering; a retweet or like may lead to persecution, under a colonial-era law. Only now have Hong Kongers woken up to their new reality — although the Basic Law technically protects citizens’ rights to speak, rally, march, demonstrate, and go on strike, the government could enfeeble civil rights by bending antiquated laws and legal provisions. The frequent abuse of law enforcement power on a small scale, such as improper arrests and police violence, is desensitizing the public and the international community. In a few years, Hong Kong will become unrecognizable. This is indeed a clever play on Beijing’s part to slowly strip away Hong Kong’s autonomy and freedom, without causing much international attention.

Counter-Strategies Against Beijing’s Brinkmanship

Beijing’s overarching goal is to hollow out Hong Kong but, at the same time, avoid major backlash from the international community, which could spell the end of the privileged global status of Hong Kong not granted to other Chinese cities. Beijing also aims at preventing single incidents that could cascade down into mass protests as seen in 2003, 2014, and 2019; and eliminating any resistance forces from within Hong Kong’s legislature. The tactics outlined above are typical in a game of brinkmanship.

In response, Hong Kongers in Hong Kong and on the so-called “international frontline” must know their strengths and bargaining chips on this negotiating table with Beijing.

Unlike Xinjiang and Tibet, Hong Kong is a city with transparency and free flow of information. Hong Kongers need to make a case to the world that the protests are not acts of terrorism. Some suggestions include comparing the Hong Kong protests to similar struggles in 20 or so other counties in the world at the present time, none of which were classified as terrorism; collecting a large amount of concrete evidence of the disproportionate use of force by the Hong Kong police; and showing how enacting Chinese national laws in Hong Kong will end the city’s autonomy and spell disaster for international community‘s interests.

The Legislative Council is the institution that can counteract Beijing’s “boiling frog” strategy and to keep Hong Kongers’ hope alive in the system. Those who plan to run for legislative office must be prepared to be disqualified from running. If only individuals are banned, there need to be alternative candidates as back-up plans. However, if and when the disqualification process is applied broadly to entire camps of candidates (for example, all who object to Article 23), the pro-democracy camp must make a strong case to the Hong Kong and global public that this is the endgame for Hong Kong democracy. Then the incumbent popularly elected legislators will hold the internationally recognized mandate from the public and serve as the last resistance.

These recommendations delineates how the slogan “if we burn, you burn with us,” often seen in the protests, may play out in the game of international relations. If the national security laws are “passed” by a legislature that is jury-rigged in this manner, or if related national laws are directly implemented in Hong Kong, Hong Kongers should signal clearly to the world that it goes way beyond the promised “one country, two systems.” Crossing this red line by Beijing should be seen by the world as a blunt violation of its promised autonomy to Hong Kongers. At that time, if the international community led by the United States and the United Kingdom decided to revoke the “non-sovereignty entity” status of Hong Kong and regard the SAR as an ordinary Chinese city, it shouldn’t come as a surprise.

Dr. Simon Shen is the Founding Chairman of GLOs (Glocal Learning Offices), an international relations start-up company. He also serves as an adjunct associate professor in the University of Hong Kong, Chinese University of Hong Kong and the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, and associate director of the Master of Global Political Economy Programme of the CUHK. The author acknowledges Jean Lin, Coco Ho, Chris Wong, Michelle King, and Alex Yap for their assistance in this piece.

▶️ 高度自治 vs 全面管治
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pwt8wZl8jHQ

【《金融時報》深度長訪】

今年做過數百外媒訪問，若要說最能反映我思緒和想法的訪問，必然是《金融時報》的這一個，沒有之一。

在排山倒海的訪問裡，這位記者能在短短個半小時裡，刻畫得如此傳神，值得睇。

Joshua Wong plonks himself down on a plastic stool across from me. He is there for barely 10 seconds before he leaps up to greet two former high school classmates in the lunchtime tea house melee. He says hi and bye and then bounds back. Once again I am facing the young man in a black Chinese collared shirt and tan shorts who is proving such a headache for the authorities in Beijing.

So far, it’s been a fairly standard week for Wong. On a break from a globe-trotting, pro-democracy lobbying tour, he was grabbed off the streets of Hong Kong and bundled into a minivan. After being arrested, he appeared on the front pages of the world’s newspapers and was labelled a “traitor” by China’s foreign ministry.

He is very apologetic about being late for lunch.

Little about Wong, the face of Hong Kong’s democracy movement, can be described as ordinary: neither his Nobel Peace Prize nomination, nor his three stints in prison. Five years ago, his face was plastered on the cover of Time magazine; in 2017, he was the subject of a hit Netflix documentary, Joshua: Teenager vs Superpower. And he’s only 23.

We’re sitting inside a Cantonese teahouse in the narrow back streets near Hong Kong’s parliament, where he works for a pro-democracy lawmaker. It’s one of the most socially diverse parts of the city and has been at the heart of five months of unrest, which has turned into a battle for Hong Kong’s future. A few weekends earlier I covered clashes nearby as protesters threw Molotov cocktails at police, who fired back tear gas. Drunk expats looked on, as tourists rushed by dragging suitcases.

The lunch crowd pours into the fast-food joint, milling around as staff set up collapsible tables on the pavement. Construction workers sit side-by-side with men sweating in suits, chopsticks in one hand, phones in the other. I scan the menu: instant noodles with fried egg and luncheon meat, deep fried pork chops, beef brisket with radish. Wong barely glances at it before selecting the hometown fried rice and milk tea, a Hong Kong speciality with British colonial roots, made with black tea and evaporated or condensed milk.

“I always order this,” he beams, “I love this place, it’s the only Cantonese teahouse in the area that does cheap, high-quality milk tea.” I take my cue and settle for the veggie and egg fried rice and a lemon iced tea as the man sitting on the next table reaches over to shake Wong’s hand. Another pats him on the shoulder as he brushes by to pay the bill.

Wong has been a recognisable face in this city since he was 14, when he fought against a proposal from the Hong Kong government to introduce a national education curriculum that would teach that Chinese Communist party rule was “superior” to western-style democracy. The government eventually backed down after more than 100,000 people took to the streets. Two years later, Wong rose to global prominence when he became the poster boy for the Umbrella Movement, in which tens of thousands of students occupied central Hong Kong for 79 days to demand genuine universal suffrage.

That movement ended in failure. Many of its leaders were sent to jail, among them Wong. But the seeds of activism were planted in the generation of Hong Kongers who are now back on the streets, fighting for democracy against the world’s most powerful authoritarian state. The latest turmoil was sparked by a controversial extradition bill but has evolved into demands for true suffrage and a showdown with Beijing over the future of Hong Kong. The unrest in the former British colony, which was handed over to China in 1997, represents the biggest uprising on Chinese soil since the 1989 pro-democracy movement in Beijing. Its climax, of course, was the Tiananmen Square massacre, when hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people were killed.

“We learnt a lot of lessons from the Umbrella Movement: how to deal with conflict between the more moderate and progressive camps, how to be more organic, how to be less hesitant,” says Wong. “Five years ago the pro-democracy camp was far more cautious about seeking international support because they were afraid of pissing off Beijing.”

Wong doesn’t appear to be afraid of irking China. Over the past few months, he has lobbied on behalf of the Hong Kong protesters to governments around the world. In the US, he testified before Congress and urged lawmakers to pass an act in support of the Hong Kong protesters — subsequently approved by the House of Representatives with strong bipartisan support. In Germany, he made headlines when he suggested two baby pandas in the Berlin Zoo be named “Democracy” and “Freedom.” He has been previously barred from entering Malaysia and Thailand due to pressure from Beijing, and a Singaporean social worker was recently convicted and fined for organising an event at which Wong spoke via Skype.

The food arrives almost immediately. I struggle to tell our orders apart. Two mouthfuls into my egg and cabbage fried rice, I regret not ordering the instant noodles with luncheon meat.

In August, a Hong Kong newspaper controlled by the Chinese Communist party published a photo of Julie Eadeh, an American diplomat, meeting pro-democracy student leaders including Wong. The headline accused “foreign forces” of igniting a revolution in Hong Kong. “Beijing says I was trained by the CIA and the US marines and I am a CIA agent. [I find it] quite boring because they have made up these kinds of rumours for seven years [now],” he says, ignoring his incessantly pinging phone.

Another thing that bores him? The media. Although Wong’s messaging is always on point, his appraisal of journalists in response to my questions is piercing and cheeky. “In 15-minute interviews I know journalists just need soundbites that I’ve repeated lots of times before. So I’ll say things like ‘I have no hope [as regards] the regime but I have hope towards the people.’ Then the journalists will say ‘oh that’s so impressive!’ And I’ll say ‘yes, I’m a poet.’ ”

And what about this choice of restaurant? “Well, I knew I couldn’t pick a five-star hotel, even though the Financial Times is paying and I know you can afford it,” he says grinning. “It’s better to do this kind of interview in a Hong Kong-style restaurant. This is the place that I conducted my first interview after I left prison.” Wong has spent around 120 days in prison in total, including on charges of unlawful assembly.

“My fellow prisoners would tell me about how they joined the Umbrella Movement and how they agreed with our beliefs. I think prisoners are more aware of the importance of human rights,” he says, adding that even the prison wardens would share with him how they had joined protests.

“Even the triad members in prison support democracy. They complain how the tax on cigarettes is extremely high and the tax on red wine is extremely low; it just shows how the upper-class elite lives here,” he says, as a waiter strains to hear our conversation. Wong was most recently released from jail in June, the day after the largest protests in the history of Hong Kong, when an estimated 2m people — more than a quarter of the territory’s 7.5m population — took to the streets.

Raised in a deeply religious family, he used to travel to mainland China every two years with his family and church literally to spread the gospel. As with many Hong Kong Chinese who trace their roots to the mainland, he doesn’t know where his ancestral village is. His lasting memory of his trips across the border is of dirty toilets, he tells me, mid-bite. He turned to activism when he realised praying didn’t help much.

“The gift from God is to have independence of mind and critical thinking; to have our own will and to make our own personal judgments. I don’t link my religious beliefs with my political judgments. Even Carrie Lam is Catholic,” he trails off, in a reference to Hong Kong’s leader. Lam has the lowest approval rating of any chief executive in the history of the city, thanks to her botched handling of the crisis.

I ask whether Wong’s father, who is also involved in social activism, has been a big influence. Wrong question.

“The western media loves to frame Joshua Wong joining the fight because of reading the books of Nelson Mandela or Martin Luther King or because of how my parents raised me. In reality, I joined street activism not because of anyone book I read. Why do journalists always assume anyone who strives for a better society has a role model?” He glances down at his pinging phone and draws a breath, before continuing. “Can you really describe my dad as an activist? I support LGBTQ rights,” he says, with a fist pump. His father, Roger Wong, is a well-known anti-gay rights campaigner in Hong Kong.

I notice he has put down his spoon, with half a plate of fried rice untouched. I decide it would be a good idea to redirect our conversation by bonding over phone addictions. Wong, renowned for his laser focus and determination, replies to my emails and messages at all hours and has been described by his friends as “a robot.”

He scrolls through his Gmail, his inbox filled with unread emails, showing me how he categorises interview requests with country tags. His life is almost solely dedicated to activism. “My friends and I used to go to watch movies and play laser tag but now of course we don’t have time to play any more: we face real bullets every weekend.”

The protests — which have seen more than 3,300 people arrested — have been largely leaderless. “Do you ever question your relevance to the movement?” I venture, mid-spoonful of congealed fried rice.

“Never,” he replies with his mouth full. “We have a lot of facilitators in this movement and I’m one of them . . . it’s just like Wikipedia. You don’t know who the contributors are behind a Wikipedia page but you know there’s a lot of collaboration and crowdsourcing. Instead of just having a top-down command, we now have a bottom-up command hub which has allowed the movement to last far longer than Umbrella.

“With greater power comes greater responsibility, so the question is how, through my role, can I express the voices of the frontliners, of the street activism? For example, I defended the action of storming into the Legislative Council on July 1. I know I didn’t storm in myself . . . ” His phone pings twice. Finally he succumbs.

After tapping away for about 30 seconds, Wong launches back into our conversation, sounding genuinely sorry that he wasn’t there on the night when protesters destroyed symbols of the Chinese Communist party and briefly occupied the chamber.

“My job is to be the middleman to express, evaluate and reveal what is going on in the Hong Kong protests when the movement is about being faceless,” he says, adding that his Twitter storm of 29 tweets explaining the July 1 occupation reached at least four million people. I admit that I am overcome with exhaustion just scanning his Twitter account, which has more than 400,000 followers. “Well, that thread was actually written by Jeffrey Ngo from Demosisto,” he say, referring to the political activism group that he heads.

A network of Hong Kong activists studying abroad helps fuel his relentless public persona on social media and in the opinion pages of international newspapers. Within a week of his most recent arrest, he had published op-eds in The Economist, The New York Times, Quartz and the Apple Daily.

I wonder out loud if he ever feels overwhelmed at taking on the Chinese Communist party, a task daunting even for some of the world’s most formidable governments and companies. He peers at me over his wire-framed glasses. “It’s our responsibility; if we don’t do it, who will? At least we are not in Xinjiang or Tibet; we are in Hong Kong,” he says, referring to two regions on Chinese soil on the frontline of Beijing’s drive to develop a high-tech surveillance state. In Xinjiang, at least one million people are being held in internment camps. “Even though we’re directly under the rule of Beijing, we have a layer of protection because we’re recognised as a global city so [Beijing] is more hesitant to act.”

I hear the sound of the wok firing up in the kitchen and ask him the question on everyone’s minds in Hong Kong: what happens next? Like many people who are closely following the extraordinary situation in Hong Kong, he is hesitant to make firm predictions.

“Lots of think-tanks around the world say ‘Oh, we’re China experts. We’re born in western countries but we know how to read Chinese so we’re familiar with Chinese politics.’ They predicted the Communist party would collapse after the Tiananmen Square massacre and they’ve kept predicting this over the past three decades but hey, now it’s 2019 and we’re still under the rule of Beijing, ha ha,” he grins.

While we are prophesying, does Wong ever think he might become chief executive one day? “No local journalist in Hong Kong would really ask this question,” he admonishes. As our lunch has progressed, he has become bolder in dissecting my interview technique. The territory’s chief executive is currently selected by a group of 1,200, mostly Beijing loyalists, and he doubts the Chinese Communist party would ever allow him to run. A few weeks after we meet he announces his candidacy in the upcoming district council elections. He was eventually the only candidate disqualified from running — an order that, after our lunch, he tweeted had come from Beijing and was “clearly politically driven”.

We turn to the more ordinary stuff of 23-year-olds’ lives, as Wong slurps the remainder of his milk tea. “Before being jailed, the thing I was most worried about was that I wouldn’t be able to watch Avengers: Endgame,” he says.

“Luckily, it came out around early May so I watched it two weeks before I was locked up in prison.” He has already quoted Spider-Man twice during our lunch. I am unsurprised when Wong picks him as his favourite character.

“I think he’s more . . . ” He pauses, one of the few times in the interview. “Compared to having an unlimited superpower or unlimited power or unlimited talent just like Superman, I think Spider-Man is more human.” With that, our friendly neighbourhood activist dashes off to his next interview.