Sat urday 31 Aug ust 2019 The Guardian •
57
Scenes from the
increasingly
tense protests
in Hong Kong,
which stemmed
from opposition
to a proposed
law that would
give mainland
China the right
to request the
extradition
of alleged
criminals
PHOTOGRAPHS:
ANTHONY WALLACE/
AFP/GETTY IMAGES;
ANTHONY KWAN/
GETTY IMAGES
an especially long day, a woman
washing her hands next to me patted
me on the shoulder and said: jia you
- “add oil” or “keep going”.
When I ask protesters why they
are still coming to the streets, some
say they don’t want to see Hong
Kong turned into another Chinese
city. They cite the detention of
Uighur Muslims in Xinjiang, activists
imprisoned for years on trumped-up
charges, or the plan for a nationwide
“social credit system”, which they
see as the culmination of a digital
police state. Because I’ve spent the
past year reporting on many of these
issues, this answer often makes the
deepest impression on me.
Emma Graham-Harrison covered
many of early protests, including
a vigil for a man who fell to his
death unfurling a protest banner.
She profi led Hong Kong’s chief
executive, Carrie Lam, who has been
a target of the protests.
Helen Davidson, a reporter
for Guardian Australia, captured
protesters’ voices in one of the
fi rst major demonstrations on
12 June. Before the protests kicked
off , she reported on the details
of the extradition law , shedding
much-needed light on why the bill
prompted such anger. Davidson,
along with other reporters in
Australia such as Naaman Zhou and
Ben Smee , have also covered pro-
Hong Kong protests there.
From London and Hong Kong,
Ben Quinn and I profi led a group of
protesters launching an awareness
campaign in the UK.
Tania Branigan, the Guardian’s
international leader writer
As China correspondent of the
Guardian for seven years, I found
reporting in Hong Kong was a
breeze compar ed with working
on the mainland – people were so
The protests in Hong Kong began
over a government bill allowing
suspects to be extradited from the
semi-autonomous city to face
China’s justice system but the
protesters’ goals have since evolved
beyond this original aim.
Guardian journalists reporting
on the unrest explain the particular
challenges this story has presented
Lily Kuo, the Guardian’s Beijing
bureau chief
The Hong Kong protests have
been one of the most important
stories I’ve covered this year. The
outpouring from the public, the
polarisation of society and the
diffi cult situation Beijing fi nds itself
in have been unprecedented.
It’s a story that deserves all the
energy we can give. Yet now, we
are three months in and I don’t
think anyone, even the protesters,
expected this to go on so long.
For me, one challenge has been
making sure we stay alert and
fresh. On big protest days, it’s not
uncommon for us to work more
than 13 hours. That could be a
combination of attending a march,
following protesters who have
splintered off to other locations,
then witnessing clashes with riot
police that inevitably end in tear gas,
rubber bullets, beatings or, most
recently, real guns being pulled out.
Because the protests have taken
many forms, from road blockades
to peaceful marches, the range of
feelings while covering them has
also been wide. Some moments have
felt surreal and peaceful ; others
chaotic and disorienting.
The protests have been one of
the few times I have been so clearly
identifi ed as a journalist – we wear
hi -vis vests and helmets with the
word “press”. Sometimes people
try to give me food or water. During
ready to talk. When the “ umbrella
movement” erupted in 2014,
protest ers happily identifi ed
themselves in full. Some off ered
themselves as interpreters. Others
sought out reporters to have their
say. What followed the movement
- including the jailing of protest
leaders and the disqualifi cation of
elected legislators – has made people
much more cautious this time.
Attacks on protest ers and
sackings for participation in
demonstrations have added to
concerns. Even at approved protests,
people are increasingly likely to at
least cover their faces with masks
and to take precautions such as
using burner phones and single
tickets rather than travel cards.
People are more hesitant about
talking, even anonymously. Yet
others are still eager to speak to
foreign media, seeing international
attention as crucial to the prospects
of their cause.
Unlike fi ve years ago, this is
a leaderless movement. What’s
striking is not only its scale and
persistence, and the variation
and escalation in tactics, but the
degree of unity. Even when they
disagree over what actions to take,
in particular the growing use of
force, participants refuse to distance
themselves from each other.
Verna Yu, a freelance writer based
in Hong Kong
Three months ago, no one would
have expected Hong Kong, an
Asian fi nancial hub, to plunge into
a prolonged and unprecedented
political crisis.
Having covered the anti-
extradition movement from the
fi rst protest on 9 June , I have been
touched by the solidarity. From
marching in downpours to standing
for hours under the sweltering sun ,
one cannot help but feel moved by
the protesters, who remain orderly
and polite to one another.
I am also impressed by the
wide support for this movement.
Among those I have interviewed are
students, teachers, businessmen,
fl ight attendants, architects and
lawyers, construction workers and
drivers. And they are from a broad
age range, from young parents
holding babies to grandmothers in
their 80s. But they are united by one
thing: an overwhelming desire to
defend Hong Kong’s core values.
But I am also gripped by anxiety.
What will happen to these young
radicals who see themselves as
“death fi ghters” struggling for Hong
Kong’s future? What will happen to
this wonderful city where I grew up?
“Tell our story to the world ,”
many told me as they handed me
biscuits and drinks, and off ered me
a hand to get over roadblocks. Their
words sound eerily similar to what
Beijing residents told Hong Kong
and foreign reporters during the
Tiananmen crackdown 30 years ago.
“Hong Kong is dying anyway, so
we might as well make a last struggle
before we die,” many have said. I feel
humbled by their trust in me.
‘Tell our story’
On the frontline
with Hong Kong’s
street protesters
What will happen to
this wonderful city
where I grew up?
Verna Yu
Freelance writer
Inside the Guardian
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