"Her Anti-WTO" Full text

I was blunt and asked her directly the moment I pressed the record button on the camcorder, “What’s the WTO to you?”

Choi Fung reacted as if she was stung, and replied testily that I should not have asked this question. She said, rationally, she could list a hundred justifications for an anti-WTO stance, however she was not accustomed to operating this type of cause and consequence rationale. Her deeply held conviction was that the WTO is a mechanism with which strong countries bully weaker ones with unprecedented violence. This was what spurred her into undertaking anti-WTO activities.

Choi Fung embarked on her anti-WTO activities long before those of the People’s Assembly and her actions extended well after theirs. In fact, Choi Fung and her friends have not yet concluded their activities, and are already conserving resources for the next round of anti-WTO activities.

Early during the summer holidays, Choi Fung and her fellow activists did the rounds with an anti-WTO documentary video, hoping to raise public awareness of the imminent conference. This was followed by a social-movement film festival in an attempt to draw together activists. The Sunday before the commencement of the Conference they organised an anti-WTO poetry street event at Sai Yeung Choi Street pedestrian precinct, at a time when the street was at its most hectic, with mobile phone stalls intermingling with political party debating forums and charitable appeal stands. It was as if everyone is exercising their right to access public space.

This was not the first occasion that Choi Fung and her fellow activists worked the streets. They have often attempted to engage the public with impromptu street screening of political films which have at times landed them in the police station. The streets are, however, civic spaces, and their activities explore in practical terms the relationship between the public and the streets, redefining their nature to the extent of changing their function and appearance.

That day, the long banner lay stretched on the road surface, and attracted queries from the police. Perhaps they did not understand the “street poetry” pun and assumed the activists were performers of street theatre. Feigning insider knowledge they asked “Are you guys from FM Theatre Power?” Actually, the activists were only reading poetry. Passer-bys could pick up a leaflet folded in the shape of a gold ingot as a souvenir or to be read aloud. Every poem warned of the perilous imminence of the WTO. Standing beside a giant advertising screen blaring loud music, the young people took turns to recite poetry. One was Tang Ah Nam’s:

Global warming is putting the heat on the climate
Water resources are in short supply
Hungry animals are trekking from the withered forests
The World Trade building is crumbling
Starving insects have long migrated to the cities in search of food
Munching the desiccated earth.
Day by day the forests become more parched as the
Sound of dissonance emanates from the WTO

The tone was temperate and candid, and counterpoised callousness with tenderness.

As an activist, Choi Fung always placed great importance on communication between individuals, and tried vigorously to explain to a curious passer-by the significance of the WTO. I vaguely overheard her talking about the price of a cup of coffee, something to do with the workers….. The passer by nodded and left without taking a poem.

Like the atmosphere ahead of a gathering storm, the feeling of edginess and apprehension ebbed and flowed.

On the day of the first rally, I conducted a short interview with Choi Fung at the assembly point. She turned her face away as I switched on the camera, and was motionless for half a minute. With tears in her eyes, she said “I am worried, very worried that there will be insufficient support for the Korean peasants.” She had already made up her mind to make a sacrifice and march shoulder to shoulder with the protestors. After days of judicious consideration, she decided that she would risk arrest to carry out her action. Her only concern was that for her parents, so she wrote them a letter and put her savings into their account. Her intentions were much graver than I had originally assumed.

After the peaceful conclusion of the first rally, young demonstrators against the WTO from all over the world gathered to sing and dance at the carnival in Victoria Park. A gaunt-looking Choi Fung set up joss sticks in the grounds to mourn and pay respects to the victims of the WTO. The next evening, at six, Choi Fung and her friends came to the Golden Bauhinia Square, again to mourn the victims and protest against the WTO. She was still very anxious and spoke to the camera, “It is distressing that no one else feels the need to do something for those killed by the WTO.” She did not, however, specify what she meant by “do something”. The sound technician butted in, “What do you hope to achieve with such individualist action?” Choi Fung was not flustered and replied confidently, “There is no knowing how much influence an individual can wield in a campaign. Collective action may not be any more successful. What has the Democratic Party achieved?” Having been active in the movement as an anarchist for five years, Choi Fung was self -contended.

This “Mourning WTO” agitation was organised in cloak and dagger fashion through slipping small flyers to interested individuals on the day of the first rally. My friend kidded, “Why don’t you put the flyers in a moon cake?” Not far from the Golden Bauhinia Square was the Conference Centre where Ministers and big corporations would be wheeling and dealing, and which would be deemed a restricted zone the next day. The radiant faces of the young people rivalled the brilliant sunlight and I was curious to know their next move. The press pack knelt around them to get the best shot, with a solemnity that seemed to revere these young people.

Choi Fung and her friend performed obsequies with each step towards Wan Chai followed relentlessly by the press pack. At one stage, a journalist was overheard reporting to his chief on the phone, “They have just departed from the Square, I don’t know if they are courting confrontation.” Choi Fung and friends were only on route to afternoon tea at the Arts Centre, closely followed by a few plainclothes policemen.

This “Mourning the WTO” action unexpectedly captured the headlines. Yet Choi Fung was still very despondent. The WTO conference was about to begin, she and her friends have yet to decide on the action they were going to take in their attempt to stop it happening. They met through the night to discuss action. They came up with youthful and ingenious ideas. On the day of the second rally Choi Fung and her friends arrived early at Victoria Park, and spread a long white banner on the ground. It said, ”If the restricted zone is unjust, why do the people not step across it?”

This white banner was a prop for the rally. I had already realised that Choi Fung and her friends would not merely march passively with the protestors. Unsurprisingly, her contingent disappeared minutes after we left the Park. When I caught up with them, the ranks of the demonstrators had been divided up with the white banner straddling across their path. Choi Fung’s contingent chanted, “cross the unjust line!“. If the restricted zone is unjust, why don’t we step across it? Choi Fung’s intention was to encourage the protestors to break through the police road block into the restricted zone. Choi Fung’s group repeated this direct action at different point of the march. As they approached the designated demonstration area, they stretched the white banner in front of the police line. Blowing whistles, chanting slogans, they urged the protestors to cross the unjust line into the restricted zone. Choi Fung danced amongst the crowd, the brief excitement dispelling the melancholy of recent days. This was followed by another all night-long action meeting.

No one knew what the Korean Peasants’ plans were. Choi Fung and her friends provided a support service within the demonstration area. They had ready vast amounts of first aid material. Some of them even took first aid classes in preparation. There were few claims on their service, but they took their role seriously and checked their supplies daily and practiced drills with saline solutions, ready to rush into action at a moment’s notice. They looked very smart with their bright red arm bands. I gave it a close –up.

Every one was invigorated by action – if they were not in Victoria Park, they were rushing round the streets, filming, demonstrating, delivering support material …. Everyone had their own chosen role within the struggle, some happy, some serene. There were never enough people prepared to stay behind to provide support service. Reluctantly Choi Fung waited within the demonstration area, “I’d quite fancy being out there”, she said time and time again. The demonstration area was very tranquil when the protestors were not there confronting the police, and the on-shore wind blew languorously. I mocked her gently, “It is difficult to fill the hours with struggle?” She dissembled briefly but then added “Struggle is not boring, there is loads of backroom work to be done”.

She’s right, there was no respite, there were phone calls to be made and answered, comrades to be kept in touch, news to be passed on. All these required someone to co-ordinate and facilitate. Circumstances changed inexorably and everyone in the campaign had to adapt to these changes, irrespective of personal preference for direct action. I got to see the gentler side of Choi Fung’s nature. She was tender and caring. She unreservedly gave her meal to someone who was hungry; I forgot to bring DV tapes, she lent me some immediately, after first taking care to remove the awkward packaging for me.

Every now and then, protestors turned up in the demonstration area, and the sound of slogans filled the air, “Down, Down WTO!” Suddenly news was received that the Korean peasants were marching and kowtowing every third step towards the Conference centre. Choi Fung was faced with a dilemma; she was desperate to join their ranks, however, she could not abandon her duties at the base. She came to a quick decision; she would send several of the youth nearby to join the march and show solidarity. I took this opportunity to ask one of the lads to speak on camera what the Korean peasants’ action meant to him. He had never been a garrulous sort; he just shook his head silently, as if he felt unable to express his thoughts and emotions in words.

When the Korean peasants came close to the demonstration area, Choi Fung joined them without fuss. In these few short minutes, she bridged the sectionalism between protestors. At the end of the march, they hugged and shook hands with the peasants. Choi Fung passed round her Korean cigarettes and broke the language barrier that divided them. The Koreans peasants taught them Korean chants “Come on, come on”. It was like the tower of Babel. The mood was one of innocent delight. With several hundred singing and dancing Korean peasants, morale was high. The sound of laughter mingled with the residual smell of the pepper spray, embodying an emergent and potent force.

The “one kowtow at every three steps” action won over hundreds of thousands of Hong Kong citizens, not least Choi Fung and her friends. Since the start of the campaign, I brought them confectionary everyday to keep them going, and to cheer them on…. Belgium chocolate, Chinese cookies, Japanese pears….. all the delicacies I could bring from home. I tried to match their innovative stunts with original snacks. Whilst I was fretting about what titbit I could bring them, Choi Fung and Wai Yee, Ah Cat and Ah Koo announced that they were going on hunger strike.

The sun was still shinning. I have been following Choi Fung’s activities with the camcorder as if I was in paid service. The “one kowtow at every three steps” tactic was a master stroke. I wondered what type of action Choi Fung would initiate to complement this. I arrived at the demonstration area earlier than usual to find her there before me. They had already started making a new banner with their “Declaration of Hunger Strike”. Since the start of the anti-WTO campaign, they have wrack their brains over the type of action they could take in support of the Korean. Choi Fung was vexed over this issue. They finally settled on making a physical statement by going on hunger strike. “In the face of an extreme and violent force, hunger strike is the only weapon in the arsenal of peaceful protest” (Declaration of Hunger Strike) Choi Fung and her friends met after each demonstration. The meeting that took place after the “one kowtow at every three steps” action was particularly lengthy. What would be an appropriate solidarity action? After much deliberation, they settled on hunger strike. “How else could we show our respect and concern for the Korean protestors, and at the same time demonstrate our anger at the WTO’s impoverishment of the developing world and its accomplice, the government of Hong Kong?” (Declaration of Hunger Strike)

They only came to this decision at five in the morning. None of them had ever gone on hunger strike before and modestly promised to do their best to stay the course. Three further friends agreed to join them. As it turned out, they were still going strong at the end of the Conference, 70 hours later. Ever since the “ one kowtow at every three steps” action, the police endeavoured to paralyse Wan Chai with rumour mongering, fabricating terrorist threats. At one stage, 900 demonstrators were inhumanely incarcerated. Yet the hunger strikers did not let up their protest. Whilst the protestors were held in police custody, Choi Fung and Wai Yee were energetically liaising with protestors outside, checking up on everyone’s safety and making valuable suggestions to others to sustain their effort.

The strike gained them support and the hunger strike camp became a sight-seeing spot. Reporters, spectators, nosey-parkers, day trippers from the mainland as well as plain-clothes policemen hung around. On the second day of the hunger strike, Choi Fung’s first words to my camera were to complain about harassment by undercover police. While she was taking a nap, her companion Wai Yee explained that there were lots of suspicious characters lurking around, some offered shade or brought them soup; some wanted to befriend them. It was obvious they were bogus sympathisers, with dubious intent. There were even couples pretending to be lovers strolling by in the middle of the night! Choi Fung was outraged. She bolted up right from her bed and said hoarsely to the camera, “They are trying to swindle my trust and emotion.” Choi Fung was not usually mistrustful, but now, she would be spooked by alien faces, setting her off on a rant against the plain clothes police.

For obvious reasons the hunger strike camp became the base for all their activities. Friends gathered there and the hunger strikers used it as their living quarters. Wai Yee set about marking her students’ homework; Ah Cat did her revision; Ah Koo and his friends debated; Choi Fung chatted on her phone. Involuntarily I became part of the gang as I huddled under the blanket with them against the wind. It was then I realised the potency of collective action, not only against wind chill, but in keeping each other’s spirits up and persevering. No wonder they all looked glowing each time I came to visit them. Ah Cat, who is still at University, looked determined and unperturbed. She was over whelmed by the actions. I remember someone suggested attending the candle-lit rally organised to oppose the political reforms proposed in Government Report Number 5, Ah Cat replied with a contempt, “I couldn’t care less about political reforms”. It was assumed that Ah Koo, who was rather slight and bashful would not be able to maintain the hunger strike. Amazingly, he steadfastly continued with it after a few hours’ rest. In the ten or so days of the hunger strike, he only went home once for 20 minutes for his family’s winter festival meal. The rest of the time he was working for the campaign. Wai Yee was a little more mature and experienced in community action. She was calm and collected. That morning I filmed her deep in her work, marking books. Her studious composure not only matched Wang Deng in his heyday, but also surpassed him in gracefulness. Once she decided to go on hunger strike, Choi Fung was more self-possessed. She slept whenever she could, and gave her all when she was required. Such flexibility revealed her appreciation of the importance of being an individual cog in any campaign.

The only frantic moment was when the police deployed water cannons against the protestors. The victims scampered back to the hunger strike camp, some were soaked to their skin; some had their camcorders ruined; others had to be treated with saline solution to rinse their eyes. The hunger strike camp was transformed instantly into a first aid centre. All the hunger strikers got off their beds and pitched in with their assistance. Even my camera had to take five. All had opted to join the ranks of the Korean peasant against the police in pursuit of a common cause. One person broke into tears. At this sight Choi Fung rushed to the demonstration area in a frenzied attempt to stop the others returning to the scene to confront the police. Regretted that I was not able to capture this moment on film.

The night that followed was remarkably peaceful. All the young people flocked to Gloucester Road. The Conference was about to end, yet the fate of the arrested was still unknown, the hunger strike could not end then as there was not a more meaningful way to protest. So they decided to extend the hunger strike and to move camp to Kwun Tong Police station to show solidarity.

Extending the hunger strike did not attract the media, but it did, however, provide more tangible support for the detained Korean peasants. That evening, each tourist bus bringing the apprehended peasants to the police station was greeted with uproarious support from those on hunger strike at the gate. The Koreans acknowledged them with a wave and a smile. I am convinced that this fleeting eye contact and smile gave solace to both parties. The will to struggle can be sustained immeasurably if one is not alone.

The people who decided to join the 24-hour hunger strike were all new to this, including myself. I had unexpectedly turned from being a recorder of events into a participant in the event. Whilst I have never been a passive observer, I had not seriously contemplated taking part in a hunger strike. During the tumultuous campaign for residential rights, though I had once considered joining Father Mella on his hunger strike, I did not eventually take part, possibly because of my concern about being able to sustain it. On this occasion, as I took part and contributed to the impromptu meeting that came to this decision, I felt that I should provide mutual support. Furthermore I really wanted to put myself in the shoes of the Korean peasants. Going on hunger strike is a means of experiencing other people’s hardship. On the day of the “ one kowtow at every three three steps”action, I interviewed a 16-year old school girl who joined the Korean peasants. She said, “These are grown men, why would they kowtow to us? They must have some heartfelt reasons to do this.” She knelt alongside the Koreans to empathise with them. I wondered if she achieved this. For my part, the lesson I learnt from participating in a 24-hour strike was a recognition that it is too short as a protest, both for the participants and their targeted mass. That’s why the Democratic Party’s 24 hour hunger strike is risible. I came away however, with an insight that for the oppressed, the capacity for resistance is infinite.

Choi Fung encouraged us as we left, “Be brave.” If we were bold, we would not be deterred by any possible outcome. That was how she accomplished her 70 hours hunger strike. I remembered she spoke to the camera on the first day, “Our bodies react differently, we must not make assumptions about how we would respond…. Do not let your body dictate your actions, let your convictions be the determinant…. We don’t need to eat 3 meals a day, we all habitually overeat.”

She concluded her hunger strike late in the night. The next day, she came to Kwun Tong to support the other hunger strikers. Refreshed by a good night’s sleep, a change of clothes and a shower, she looked radiant with her gleaming long hair. I teased her, “You look like Lin Qing Xian with that mane of hair!” She was once again solicitous and turned her hand to any practical tasks. Later on the strikers moved camp to the entrance of the law courts across the road. There, whilst we were idling we got chatting, I learnt that she was a much loved “princess” at home, who had never had to worry about the next meal. Here, she was willing to undertake any number of menial tasks.

The regime at the new camp was as free and easy as the previous one. I was very taken with this independent spirit. The protest could take whichever form one chose. No one laid down the law. The law courts were on a busy road. A passer-by asked to use the megaphone when he found out that it was an anti-WTO demonstration. He wouldn’t say why he wanted it. As it turned out, he used it to chant anti-WTO slogans for over an hour in a monotone, “It is not a crime to protest against the WTO, release all those arrested immediately!” He did the same again the next day, no body joined in the chanting, but he seemed quite pleased with this state of affairs.

Whilst he chanted, another protestor chose to beat a drum, still another banged on the door of the law court with a bamboo pole, and experimented with its sound effects. Ah Koo and Ah Cat held high placards saying “Shame on the police”. Someone attached this sign to the bus stop. Yet another person use empty plastic bottles as primeval percussion instruments as an expression of his protest. There was no commander, no one give orders to start chanting or when to stop. A couple of policemen came to spy on the demonstrators, but unable to witness any violence, fruitlessly they departed. The young man with the drum reported cheerily to the others, “Great, we got rid of two policemen.” This demonstration was peaceable and anti-feudal, a great step forward for the people.

The campaign had progressed from street demonstrations to the legal stage, there was little else that we could do. After 10 or more days’ agitation, Choi Fung and her friends nonetheless felt they had the strength to carry on. On Christmas night they turned up outside Sogo, singing and chanting, demanding the dropping of the charges and the release of the 14 who were still in custody. When I arrived, Choi Fung was slumped by the roadside, worn out. The others were staging street theatre. Ah Wai dedicated a new rhyme – “WTO kills, we fight back, suppression of the people is an outrage, release those in custody, drop all charges!” We tapped and clapped in unison, our voices rising along with our optimism.

My camera charted their rhythmic movement. I looked round and Choi Fung had gone. On the way home I received an SMS from her, “I am too tired tonight, maybe I cried too much last night. I am frustrated but I don’t know what else I can do. On this festive night, they are detained here and cannot be united with their family…”

Kong king chu
2005/12/27