In Hong Kong, the solitude of the last pro-democracy activists

Most are in exile or in prison. But a handful of pro-democracy activists, like Chan Po-ying, are still trying to make a small, discordant “voice” heard in Hong Kong despite the continued strengthening of repression.

Thursday, on the sidelines of a hearing which declared 14 activists guilty of “subversion” for their role in the 2019 protest which shook the territory returned by London to China in 1997, she and a handful of demonstrators dared to gather before the tribunal.

“Hong Kong should remain a place where there is freedom of speech and demonstration,” the 68-year-old told reporters. The police shortly after announced his arrest for “disturbing public order”.

The defendants tried on Thursday had refused to recognize possible criminal responsibility in the gigantic, sometimes violent, pro-democracy demonstrations of 2019. Among them is Leung Kwok-hung, her husband.

Like the 45 other defendants in this lengthy procedure, most of whom have pleaded guilty, this former deputy faces life imprisonment. Their sentence is due to be made public later this year.

Turn of screw

Co-founder with her husband in 2006 of the League of Social Democrats, Chan Po-ying has long remained in the shadow of this emblematic character, better known under the name “Long Hair” because of her long hair.

After the introduction at Beijing’s instigation of a national security law in 2020 and waves of arrests and departures into exile, she found herself on the front line without really having wanted it. And without resolving to give up.

“As a citizen who believes in her ideals, I think it is important that we defend some of our basic rights,” she recently told AFP. “I have to hang on.”

A new turn of the screw came in March, with the entry into force of a new national security law intended to complement that of 2020.

Now that “Long Hair” has been found guilty, Chan Po-ying risks only being able to visit him in prison for half an hour four times a month, instead of an almost daily visit until now.

More than three years of detention have already deeply affected, even “distorted”, her husband, she testifies.

“In prison, separated by the glass partition, we know that the phone is monitored, that the letters we send are reread, so apart from occasional chatter, we don’t really talk about anything,” he said. -she confided.

” More hope “

Although they are not themselves accused of wrongdoing, many relatives of the accused now prefer to keep a low profile so as not to attract the attention of the authorities.

Emilia Wong confesses that her partner Ventus Lau, one of 31 activists to plead guilty, was sent to solitary confinement after she ironically pointed out on social media that he had a view of the sea ​​from his cell.

“They don’t want you to maintain a presence in the company,” says Emilia Wong. “Today it is difficult for me to think about the future, because it is too uncertain,” she adds.

But Chan Po-ying, whose party has not been formally banned, says he does not want to remain silent.

“I worry that it’s very easy for society to give in to pressure, to shut up or automatically give up our rights,” she says.

However, “we don’t want society to lose its voice,” she adds. “As a humble citizen, I think that when all that remains is the official discourse, it is our duty not to let others rewrite our history.”

However, she believes, there is “no more hope”. Even for those prisoners who would one day be lucky enough to be released.

“Nowadays, I think everyone has the feeling that, even after serving your sentence, you are just leaving a small prison and entering a bigger one,” says the Hong Kong activist.

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