Political News

How the protests in Hong Kong are affecting these five residents’ lives

Published by:

How the protests in Hong Kong are affecting these five residents’ lives 2



How the protests in Hong Kong are affecting these five residents’ lives 3

They traded school uniforms for black T-shirts and face masks. They lied to their employers for a day off. Babysitters watched young children while the parents were away at protests. Across Hong Kong, otherwise average lives have been transformed by a wave of dissent against Beijing’s increasing influence over the former British colony.

The spark for the demonstrations was a proposal to allow extraditions to China. But they reignited fears that Hong Kong will lose its relative autonomy – a promise under the “one country, two systems” framework – if they do not take a stand. Their movement has been deliberately leaderless. That is partly to avoid prosecution, but also to empower all. Strategies are debated on messaging boards, protest routes are planned on secure apps.

The demonstrators draw on the echoes of their generation: Beijing’s Tiananmen Square in 1989 for the older ones, the Umbrella Movement protests in Hong Kong in 2014 for those who are younger. They all, however, see this fight as one that will define Hong Kong for years to come.


The mother, 44

Gloria Kwong’s political awakening came when she watched television broadcasts of tanks rolling down the streets of Beijing, crushing the student uprising in Tiananmen Square.

“I was only in secondary school, like the age of the young people on the streets today,” Kwong, 44, says. “My eyes were opened.”

After the 1997 handover of Hong Kong to China, she watched with fear as Chinese influence crept into her city. In 2012, Kwong was among a group of parents opposing a “national education” proposal to promote Chinese communism and denounce western democracy. Protests forced authorities to back down. She found herself rushing to the protests and campaign meetings while still breast-feeding her second child.

“There are so many examples telling me that, as a mother, I need to stand up for my children, especially when they are so young and don’t have a voice,” she says.

Last month, after police teargassed and shot projectiles at protesters surrounding the legislative building, Kwong and her friends discussed what they could do.

“We thought: if there was a more mature adult, standing among them, will the police still dare to do this?” she says.

Then came Hong Kong leader Carrie Lam’s comments that same night, when she compared protesters to her own sons and said she could not indulge “wayward behaviour”. Kwong and others had enough. They organised the first of two mothers’ rallies. The second had around 8,000 people. People have likened their efforts to the Tiananmen Mothers, a group of Chinese activists who lost children in the 1989 protests and have dedicated their lives to pushing for democracy. Kwong feels uncomfortable about the comparison.

“I want to do what I can do now, so we don’t become Tiananmen mothers later,” she says.

King Chan and his mother, Jenny, share similar political views

The family, 28 and 61

Jenny Chan and her 28-year-old son, King, share a small two-bedroom apartment in Tuen Mun, a suburb of Hong Kong far from the city’s iconic harbourfront skyline. They also share political views, a rarity as generations often find themselves bitterly divided in their responses to upheavals. The young have been mostly on the forefront of some of the most radical moves – particularly the storming of Hong Kong’s legislature on 2 July. Some protesters have returned home to parents who have tried to punish them, ground them or kick them out of their homes. Jenny – acknowledging that, at 61, she is past her prime to be on the front lines – is still there in spirit.

“I am not brave enough to be breaking into buildings,” she says. “But we all have our own way to speak up.”

She watched her son don his helmet and mask before he rushed out on the night the legislative building was occupied.

“Some people here only want to protect their money or power,” she says fiercely. “I have always taught my son what my mother taught me: that we must raise our voice if we see any injustice and speak out for what is fair.”

The unforgiving economics of Hong Kong life are never far from politics. Their family once lived in a large village home, its 2,000 square feet offering King and his brother ample space to grow up. Then rents were raised until it was no longer affordable. Jenny and her son are still renting, but this time just 400 square feet.

“If we look around, we see this huge gap in wealth, and there are no longer opportunities to work hard and be successful,” she says.

King is more stark.

“If I try to think of my future, all I see is none, no future at all,” he says. “I cannot imagine moving out. I cannot imagine owning a home. I cannot imagine building a life. All I can think is, in 30 or 40 years, it will be even worse because we won’t even have our freedoms.”

The student, 16

With a box of chocolate biscuit sticks in her hands and a chequered school dress, it is hard to imagine Gigi battling riot police in the street. Yet there she was: wearing a black face mask and standing behind a cluster of metal barricades on 12 June, when protesters surrounded the Legislative Council building. She heard what sounded like an explosion. Someone thrust a pair of goggles into her hands. Then she felt it for the first time: the teargas that burned her skin and clouded her vision.

Back home that evening, she was silent during dinner with her parents. She didn’t want them to worry. They quarrelled the night before after attending a memorial for a young woman who had died by suicide and linked it to the extradition bill in her goodbye note.

“I wasn’t out hanging out with my friends or watching a movie,” she says, fighting back tears. She couldn’t understand why her parents – who took her to her first political rally in 2012, over the suspicious death of a Chinese dissident – were arguing rather than offering condolences.

That rally, she says, was a “turning point.” After that, she stopped being proud to call herself Chinese. Two years later, during the 79-day occupation of Hong Kong’s streets demanding a direct vote for Hong Kong officials, Gigi ferried supplies back and forth to those camped out on the roads. Though isolated among her friends, who are losing interest in the demonstrations, she says she cannot focus on anything but the protests. So the tiny 16-year-old, just over 5ft tall and weighing 90lbs, has gone by herself to recent rallies.

“After being teargassed, I was no longer afraid,” she says. “I understand that police may settle old scores later, but there is nothing else I can do.”

Louis continues to live with his parents, sharing a room with siblings

The civil servant, 28

Louis, an immigration official, has manned various border crossings into Hong Kong: the airport, ferry terminal and overland routes from the mainland. This gave him a close-up view into what he sees as among the biggest threats facing his home: an incursion of long-term Chinese residents into Hong Kong, under a scheme that allows 150 per day to arrive on “one-way” permits.

“We have no choice in who these people are,” says Louis, who gave only his nickname to avoid possible reprisals from his bosses or authorities. “This is a policy that is very good for China, for them to brainwash Hong Kong by letting these people come here and spread their ideologies.”

Almost one million Chinese had arrived through this scheme by the end of 2016, a sizeable chunk of Hong Kong’s roughly 7.3 million people. They’ve served to reinforce a view in Hong Kong that the government is not concerned with the myriad issues locals face – sky-high rents, wages that cannot keep up – but work to please Beijing. Louis himself continues to live with his parents, sharing a room with siblings. His salary of $3,000 a month is decent, but makes any other option impossible. He applied for his own place through a public housing scheme when he was 18, and got a notification just last year informing him that he finally got a unit. By then, he was over the maximum income.

“If we are looking to take the next step in life, we need money, housing,” he says. “But these are not things we can imagine having.”


Support free-thinking journalism and subscribe to Independent Minds

On the streets, he takes extra caution – never on the frontlines, always with a mask – fully aware he needs his job. He runs into colleagues often. They give him a knowing look. They know the risk. One colleague was stopped and searched during protests in 2014. The officer who found his government ID immediately called his supervisor. He was not fired but received a “black mark” that probably stalled his career.

Louis is celebrating his own small victory: getting his cautious mother out to a march for the first time on 16 June.

“It totally changed her mind,” he says. “She now realises that there is abuse of power all around, from the government to the police.”

© The Washington Post 



Source link

Want to learn about socialism vs communism read us today
Political News

Ursula von der Leyen: Who is the first woman president of the EU commission?

Published by:

Ursula von der Leyen: Who is the first woman president of the EU commission? 5



Ursula von der Leyen: Who is the first woman president of the EU commission? 6

Ursula von der Leyen was never the name on everyone’s lips: The 60-year-old defence minister, who was relatively unknown outside of Germany until two weeks ago, was narrowly approved by MEPs on Tuesday. 

She didn’t stand in the elections and her name was never really mentioned as a candidate – but that didn’t stop MEPs approving her. They had tried to inject some democracy into the selection process, but backed down after leaders threatened a fight.

In the end the vote was closer than many expected: despite winning support from most of the mainstream political groups in the parliament, she scraped through by just nine votes. Such is the effect of a secret ballot.


Getting the job is something of a homecoming for the Christian democratic politician, who was actually raised in Brussels as a native French and German speaker. Her father, Ernst Albrecht, was a top EU civil servant in the Sixties.

A compromise candidate, she was suggested by EU leaders after days of talks – apparently by the Visegrad group of central and eastern European countries.

Since her nomination she had done everything she can to shake the vote of confidence of far-right Hungarian prime minister Viktor Orban – which many worried would count against her with other more liberal-minded Europeans. She has talked up beefing up rule of law provisions, and emphasised the social liberal and environmental side of her politics.

Von der Leyen is no stranger to scandal: she’s currently undergoing a parliamentary inquiry over claims of nepotism and incompetence at the Ministry of Defence. She’s also been accused of plagiarising some of her doctoral thesis, and making errors in it. It’ll be worth keeping an eye on the Bundestag to see whether anything come out of the parliamentary inquiry. 

On Brexit – which is fairly low down the agenda in Brussels at the moment – Von der Leyen will be more of the same (as any realistic pick for the top job would be). She’s said Brexit is a “loss for everyone” and said events since the referendum had the “burst bubble of hollow promises” woven by Vote Leave. She’s said she’s open an an extension, but the decisions won’t be hers and she won’t be in office until November anyway, when it’s been decided.

Von der Leyen is, above all, a close ally of Angela Merkel – a moderate who is the only minister to have served in all her governments continuously since 2005. Before taking over the defence portfolio she was labour and social affairs minister, and before that, families minister. In those roles she supported quotas for women on company boards and beefed up parental leave for fathers. She stood by Merkel during the refugee crisis.

As defence minister, she promoted arms exports to Saudi Arabia, and on foreign policy is, by German standards at least, a hawk. At the EU, she is a strong federalist, and has called for “a united states of Europe – run along the lines of the federal states of Switzerland, Germany or the USA”. She says an EU army is also an aspiration. 

Her policy platform, which was previously fairly opaque on account of her not being a candidate in the elections, has now been fleshed out. It looks fairly ambitious: abolishing the member state veto on foreign policy, EU-wide coordination of minimum wages, and a major investment programme to cut carbon emissions. But the EU is such that it’s hard to tell how much of this she will be able to deliver.

She is, of course, the first women to hold the post of European Commission president – and actually only the second German. Now, her job is to build her top team, which she says she wants to be half men and half women. Her first fight will be convincing member states – many of whom already have particular men in mind for the post – that that’s worth it. 



Source link

Political News

Corporate sponsorship of EU presidency to continue despite outcry

Published by:

Corporate sponsorship of EU presidency to continue despite outcry 8



Corporate sponsorship of EU presidency to continue despite outcry 9

The controversial practice of picking corporate sponsors for the European Union’s rotating presidency is to continue, despite an outcry from MEPs.

EU countries have been raising eyebrows by doing deals with increasingly controversial multinational corporations during their stints overseeing debates at the EU council

Romania’s presidency in the first half of 2019 was sponsored by Coca-Cola, with the US drinks giant’s logo plastered over banners and signs at meetings. One council summit in Bucharest featured Coca-Cola branded bean bag chairs, and a fridge of free drinks plastered with statistics about the company’s contribution to the economy.


Other sponsors of the council presidency have included car manufacturers, software companies and other firms with vested interests in influencing EU policy.

But hopes that the incoming Finnish presidency, which took the helm this summer, might end the practice, were dashed after it picked German car manufacturer BMW as a sponsor – despite the firm being hit with a fine over its cars’ diesel emissions earlier this year.

“We do not foresee any discussions of corporate sponsorship of EU presidencies with other member states,” a spokesperson for the Finnish presidency told the EUobserver website.

The Finnish presidency has confirmed that BMW will be providing free cars for use by the presidency to transport members of delegations.

Around 100 MEPs wrote to the Finnish government in April calling for a ban on the practice, describing it as “politically damaging”.

“The sponsorship of the current and previous presidencies by automotive, software and beverage companies, many of whom have an active interest in influencing EU decision-making, is politically damaging,” the letter, signed by 97 representatives read.

Coca-Cola sponsors Romania’s European council presidency (romania2019.eu)

Vicky Cann, lobbying researcher at Corporate Europe Observatory told The Independent: “Corporate sponsorship of a member state’s EU Council Presidency has become standard, but it is pretty obvious that this should be a no-go.

“Some of the corporations involved, like car company BMW sponsoring the current Finnish Presidency, spend millions on lobbying the EU and have a clear agenda to influence EU decision-making. The risk is that these sponsorship deals help to grease the wheels of the Brussels lobbying machine by trying to boost the image of these brands in the eyes of EU policy-makers.

“In the case of BMW, this is taking place only a few months after the EU Commission charged the company and several other car makers with collusion to limit the development and roll-out of emission cleaning technology. Decision-makers should be keeping their distance from the car industry, not accepting its favours. But so far, there seems to be no regulation, let alone prohibition, of such corporate sponsorship deals.”

The presidency of the EU council rotates between member states every six months. The country that holds the presidency chairs meetings of the EU council, which scrutinises EU legislation, and sets agendas and a programme of work for its six months.



Source link

Subscribe to get this amazing EBOOK Free

By subscribing to this newsletter you agree to our Privacy Policy