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The funeral of one of Hong Kong’s most respected political figures, Szeto Wah ― a long-time educator, unionist, legislator and critic of the Chinese government who died of lung cancer at the age of 79 ― underlines the ambiguous nature of the relationship between the former British colony and the Chinese government 13 years after the British departure.
Even though Hong Kong returned to Chinese sovereignty in 1997, it continues to be a largely autonomous entity under the concept of “one country, two systems.” Increasingly, people are asking where “one country” ends and “two systems” begin.
Thus, Szeto was praised in death by Chief Executive Donald Tsang as someone who was “passionate about China and Hong Kong,” “devoted in promoting democracy” and was “upright, industrious and unwavering in the pursuit of his ideals.”
Szeto was honored not just by the Chief Executive but by all sections of the community, with former political adversaries lining up to gently depositing white roses on his coffin.
And yet, until his death, Szeto was persona non grata in mainland China, like many other members of the Democratic Party of Hong Kong, which he helped to found.
Not only would Beijing not allow Szeto to step onto mainland soil, it also successfully frustrated attempts by former Tiananmen Square student leaders living in exile from attending the funeral in Hong Kong.
Two former student leaders, Wang Dan and Wu’er Kaixi, asked to enter Hong Kong solely for the purpose of honoring the man who, as chairman of the Hong Kong Alliance in Support of Patriotic Democratic Movements in China, had called for the vindication of the students for the last 21 years. In the end, they were kept out.
The South China Morning Post put it well when it said in an editorial: “Decisions such as the one to reject the application by Wang Dan only strengthen suspicions that our officials either follow Beijing's instructions in sensitive cases ― or try to second-guess the central government's wishes.”
Inevitably, Szeto will be compared with Martin Lee, the party’s founding chairman who is far better known overseas. Both were among the handful of politicians who won seats in the colony’s Legislative Council in 1985 when elections were first held.
And both were invited the same year by the Chinese government to serve on the Basic Law Drafting Committee to put into legal language the political agreement reached between Britain and China on the future of Hong Kong known as the Joint Declaration.
But while Lee, then chairman of the Hong Kong Bar Association, was a political neophyte, Szeto was already a seasoned politician and union leader who had taken on the British colonial government on such issues as making Chinese an official language in Hong Kong and urging the use of Chinese as the medium of instruction in secondary schools.
The activist’s patriotism was also reflected in his leadership of anti-Japanese protests against textbook changes that whitewashed atrocities committed in the 1930s and 1940s and to assert Chinese sovereignty over disputed islands.
Szeto was a man of the people who was universally addressed as “Uncle Wah.” He was steeped in Chinese tradition and was noted for his calligraphy.
In fact, each Chinese New Year, he would raise funds for the Hong Kong Alliance by producing traditional greetings and selling them at a fair in Victoria Park.
Ultimately, while all segments of Hong Kong recognized Szeto and honored him for the patriot that he was, the Communist Party and the Chinese government could not accept him and his call for an end to one party rule in China.
Szeto was unacceptable to the Communist government because, by his very existence, he showed that it was possible to be a Chinese patriot and not be a supporter of the Communist Party.
Ever since the demise of communism as an ideology, the Communist Party has sought to legitimize itself through bolstering nationalistic sentiments in China and making its interests appear indistinguishable from China’s interests.
But Szeto showed that it is entirely possible to dedicate one’s life to China and at the same time to spurn the Communist Party ― indeed, to call for its downfall.
That, ultimately, is what the vindication of the 1989 student movement would mean. The students called for democracy and an end to corruption. Today, 21 years later, that call can no longer be made publicly on the mainland, but it is still made regularly in Hong Kong.
Frank Ching is a journalist and commentator in Hong Kong. He can be reached at Frank.ching@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter: @FrankChing1.
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