Brutal policing of protests undermines Hong Kong's unique way of life
Witnessing tear gas attacks on pro-democracy protesters has a profound impact on one observer, who fears recent events may mark a loss of innocence in peaceful Hong Kong
On Sunday I was at Tamar. Like the majority of the crowd gathered there I went not to cause a disturbance but to express my displeasure at the way the authorities were handling the student protests. Even standing on the side, among others who had obviously come to observe, the police fired a tear gas canister in my direction. It was unprovoked. The crowd did not push the police. There was no threat.
That day I cried like never before. My eyes were blinded by pain and tears, and my lungs seemed to burn. But far worse was the pain I felt inside. Four days later, as I write this, I continue to shed tears for the loss of an innocence that had once defined my home.
There are still people in this city who try to spin the events of Sunday to suit a personal or political stance. An old friend posted that the police should be commended for their actions. Another commented that regardless of what happens it is the protestors who have blood on their hands. “Who will be responsible for the stock market collapse”, he said.
Even as the was doing fine work reporting on the protests, some commentators continued to think of it as a game. Alex Lo may be right in stating that compared to the way police forces have suppressed riots elsewhere what happened on Sunday does not seem brutal. But each of the examples of excessive police brutality he lists does not condone what happened in Hong Kong.
Brutality is not measured by the strength of the strike. It is in its proportionality to the threat. Hong Kong people are not Londoners. We are not like those who rioted in Athens and Chicago. We do not, like protesters in China, see the police as a symbol of state oppression. We are not inebriated or drugged, nor likely to be armed. We do not represent a threat to bystanders. Public order is not endangered, and we do not loot shops or smash shop fronts.
On Sunday I saw a frail young girl holding a yellow flower, a girl of such innocence and so unthreatening, someone who represented the beautiful nature of so many of our youth, shoved from behind and trod upon by a manic policemen in full body armour and armed with a shield and baton. The act was not extreme, but it was brutal. What made it so brutal was the girl’s innocence and frail, serene beauty. It felt like watching a policeman strike my baby god-daughter.
