ALL MODERN revolutions apparently need to be named after something, regardless of whether they are successful or not. The overthrow of Slobodan Milošević in Yugoslavia in 2000 was called the Bulldozer Revolution. Georgia had the Rose Revolution in 2003 and Ukraine the Orange Revolution in 2004. The Arab Spring was composed of the Jasmine Revolution (Tunisia), the Pearl Revolution (Bahrain) and so on. Honoring this trend, the protests that have rocked Hong Kong this year have been dubbed the “Water Revolution.” The name supposedly derives from the demonstrators’ strategy to, in the words of Hong Kong-born kung-fu movie star Bruce Lee, “be formless, shapeless, like water.”

It is the word “revolution” though that has the leaders of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) gravely concerned, and it shows. Consider comments by the Global Times—a daily tabloid published under the Chinese Communist Party. According to this official publication, the protestors in Hong Kong are “traitors” aiming to “create a violent movement” that “seeks to challenge the central government [in Beijing] and make Hong Kong ‘independent.’” The protestors are said to be working with foreign interests (namely the United States), and aim to “[subvert] the government” and “[brainwash] Hong Kong society with extreme ‘Western values.’”

What exactly is going on in Hong Kong? Why have these protests so unnerved China’s leaders? And is there a way for the current crisis to end on a peaceful note?

FOR MANY Hongkongers, the 2019 Extradition Bill introduced in February was but the latest endeavor by Beijing to erode away the region’s autonomy. The proposed changes would have facilitated the extradition of criminal suspects from Hong Kong to other parts of the PRC and to Taiwan. While this would make sense for certain cases—the government referred to a case where a Hong Kong man murdered his girlfriend in Taiwan—observers noted that these changes could also mean that political dissidents could more easily be extradited back to the Chinese mainland.

These sorts of attempts to erode Hong Kong’s autonomy have been going on for a while but have been especially apparent over the past five years. What kicked things off was that, in 2014, the National People’s Congress in Beijing decided to impose a stringent screening mechanism on candidates for Hong Kong’s top official post, the chief executive. In effect, this mechanism bared candidates Beijing disapproves of. This ran contrary to the promise made in Article 68 of Hong Kong Basic Law—essentially the region’s constitution—that Hongkongers would one day be able to elect their own leaders. Then there was the 2015 disappearance of five booksellers affiliated with the Hong Kong-based publishing house that published books critical of senior PRC leaders. Then, in 2016, the Chinese e-commerce giant Alibaba acquired the region’s newspaper of record, the South China Morning Post, with a company executive stating an intent to “improve China’s image and offer an alternative to…the biased lens of Western news outlets.”

As evidenced by opinion polling, these incidents, along with many others, have had a dramatic effect on public opinion. The Hong Kong Public Opinion Research Institute (PORI), formerly the Public Opinion Programme at the University of Hong Kong, has recorded a perceived decline in Hong Kong’s various civil liberties since 2017, with ratings this year reaching their lowest points on record since 1997. Additional polling by PORI also reveals a perceived decline in the fairness of the region’s judicial system, the impartiality of the courts, and whether the region is governed by the rule of law.

These trends, conversely, correlate with changes in attitudes towards mainland China. PORI polling shows that support for Taiwanese and Tibetan independence has risen significantly (from 9.4 and 11 percent, respectively, in June of 2006, to 43.7 and 25.7 percent in July of this year) while confidence in the “One Country, Two Systems” model has crashed (76.9 percent in August of 2007 to 33.8 percent in August of this year). Likewise, confidence in Beijing has also collapsed (4.2 percent “very distrustful in August 2007 to 48.6 percent in August of this year). Separate polling by PORI (before becoming independent from the University of Hong Kong) and the Hong Kong Public Research Institute demonstrate that respondents, especially those between eighteen and twenty-nine years old, have been increasingly identifying as “Hongkonger” rather than “Chinese.”

The Extradition Bill, however, was a step too far for many. Not only did pro-democracy parties and activists object to it, but so did business leaders and even some pro-government figures, including Henry Tang, the former Chief Secretary of Hong Kong; Peter Lam, the chairman of Hong Kong’s Trade Development Council; and Priscilla Leung, Vice-Chairwoman of the Business and Professionals Alliance. Possibly the most damning rebuke though came from the chairman of the Hong Kong Bar Association (HKBA), who later wrote to the city’s chief executive, Carrie Lam, that

HKBA questioned, amongst other things, why the Government has in the current exercise reneged on the Government’s previous commitments to carry out a full consultation of the subject of rendition to Mainland China in view of serious concerns of the domestic population as well as the international community with regard to the lack of protection of minimum rights to a fair trial, in Mainland China.

This was what united the city’s various groups and political factions: the view that mainland China’s legal system cannot guarantee a fair trial. Passing the Extradition Bill would undermine the rights of all Hongkongers, as well as the strength of the region’s own common law legal system.

HONG KONG’S government ignored the cross-societal pushback against the Extradition Bill and advanced it forward to its second reading in mid-June. Protests against the bill grew from between five thousand to twelve thousand individuals in late March to as many as 1.03 million (according to organizers) on June 9. Lam, deaf to the concerns of the public and the city’s various political camps, insisted that “the bill will resume its Second Reading on June 12.” This resolve to proceed with the Extradition Bill despite obvious societal opposition has led some to speculate that the decision to push forward did not come from mainland China. After all, Beijing was focused on keeping the entire country calm and quiet as it prepared for the seventieth anniversary of the PRC’s founding. The decision to push forward with the bill must have come directly from Lam herself, who was hoping to ingratiate herself with Beijing.

Regardless of whether Beijing or Lam was responsible, her handling of the matter provoked much anger. When June 12 arrived, mass resistance made itself manifest outside of the Legislative Council (Hong Kong’s legislature) compound where the bill was supposed to be read. By the end of the day, a few protestors had broken into parts of the compound and clashed with police. The police responded against all protestors, not just the few who had broken into the compound, with tear gas, pepper spray and rubber bullets. This forceful, indiscriminate reaction on mostly peaceful demonstrators galvanized Hongkongers. The Hong Kong police commissioner made matters worse when he described the day’s incident as a “riot,” which under Hong Kong law carries a maximum penalty of ten years imprisonment and can be interpreted to include anyone who was present at a protest that becomes a riot—even if they did not partake in violent acts.

That was the turning point. At a press conference that evening, Lam gave “poorly directed comments” that came across as insensitive and condescending, further fueling the protests. On June 15, Lam attempted to calm the situation by suspending the Extradition Bill. Hongkongers, suspecting this was but a temporary tactical retreat, doubled down. The next day, as many as two million people marched against Hong Kong’s government, demanding that not only the bill be withdrawn entirely, but that there be an independent investigation into the police’s behavior on June 12.

The situation has continually escalated since then to the present day, to the point where police have begun using live rounds and some protestors have taken to resorting to violent methods. Though Lam had the Extradition Bill formally withdrawn on September 4, by then it was too little, too late. The protestor movement now has five concrete demands, with the withdrawal of the bill being only the first. The other four are an independent commission of inquiry into alleged police brutality; retracting the classification of protestors as rioters; amnesty for arrested protestors; and—most difficult of all—Carrie Lams’ resignation followed by the “implementation of universal suffrage for legislative council elections and for the election of the chief executive,” as was originally promised in Article 68 of Hong Kong Basic Law. In other words, for Hongkongers’ to be able to elect their own leader and legislators.

The protestors’ fifth demand for universal suffrage reflects their thinking: unless Hong Kong’s inhabitants can elect their own government which they themselves can hold accountable, there will be further future attempts to undermine Hong Kong’s autonomy, along with its distinct legal system and civil liberties. What began as a protest against the Extradition Bill, now dead in the water, has become a full-fledged movement fighting for Hong Kong’s autonomy.

HONGKONGERS’ ULTIMATE fate will be decided in Beijing. After all, Hong Kong simply cannot survive without mainland China—literally, if one considers that the region imports 80 percent of its freshwater supply and almost all of its fresh food from the mainland. Yet despite Beijing’s already sizeable influence over Hong Kong, it has—as stated earlier—gradually and consistently extended its control (direct or indirect) over the region. There are a number of reasons for this, but there are two that are important to note.

First, we must remember that China is not a traditional nation-state. Rather, it is a political entity made up of fifty-six officially recognized ethnic groups (including the dominant Han Chinese) speaking an estimated 297 living languages (including the dominant Mandarin Chinese). In other words, China is—as it has always been—a multiethnic empire held together by a strong central authority from an imperial capital. And like most multiethnic empires, China’s imperial center has long grappled with the constant challenge of managing regional divisions and ruling distant peoples. The Chinese have their own proverb for this: tian gao huangdi yuan (“the mountains are high and the emperor is far away”).

The greatest fear any Chinese ruler has is if the region enters into open rebellion against the capital and plunges the nation into conflict. Worse, a single rebellion often inspires other rebellions, usually resulting in the disintegration of the empire. Chinese history is filled with such instances of division, from the Warring States period (475–221 BC) to the Warlord Era (1916–1928 AD). Even more terrifying though is when a foreign power, sensing weakness in China, seizes the opportunity and invades, resulting in an age of darkness and oppression. The most recent such period (the Warlord Era, followed by the Chinese Civil War) is still a fresh memory for China’s elites.

This historical context explains why China’s leaders are particularly sensitive to anything that can impinge upon their country’s sovereignty: a single “rebellion” or similar challenge to Beijing’s authority could eventually result in yet another full-scale disintegration of the empire. This is why the Chinese Communist Party is ready to resort to extreme measures to subordinate and forcefully assimilate the Tibetans of Tibet and the Uyghurs of Xinjiang. It is why the PRC insists that Taiwan is one of its provinces, and has made it clear that it is ready to mount total war if Taipei were to ever dare to formally declare independence. And it is why Beijing, though mostly abiding by the “One Country, Two Systems” principle, cannot help but try to further politically and institutionally assimilate Hong Kong into itself.

The second reason why Beijing seeks to extend its control over Hong Kong is because of economics. Put simply, the presence of a nearby trusted international financial center—with its own common law legal system, stable currency and free-flowing capital—is crucial for the mainland Chinese economy. Around 75.5 percent of yuan-denominated transactions, for example, are processed in Hong Kong. Over 54 percent of funds that Chinese companies raised via initial public offerings last year came via listings in Hong Kong’s stock market. Slightly over half of the $2.226 trillion in international claims that Chinese banks report (at least as of March of this year) were actually booked in Hong Kong. In fact, most Chinese banks run their overseas business through Hong Kong, where their assets have risen 500 percent over the past ten years, accounting for half of the growth of the city’s banking industry.

Hong Kong also serves a financial function that is just as important though not as often discussed: it is where Chinese elites can launder and move their money out of China. For instance, the 2018 Panama Papers revealed how a significant amount of the city’s high-end luxury real estate is actually owned by relatives of prominent Chinese political leaders—including Presidents Xi Jinping and Hu Jintao, former Beijing mayor Jia Qinglin, Chairman of the Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress Li Zhanshu and others. Many of these properties were bought with cash, making it hard to verify the money’s source. For those seeking to move smaller sums, Hong Kong’s Apple store at one point had bill counters at the register, allowing Chinese mainlanders to buy a great deal of expensive electronic equipment with resale value using only cash. Other examples exist, but the point stands: Hong Kong is an excellent place to turn cold hard cash of unknown origin into “something else.” Ideally, this “something else” is eventually resold and the realization from such sales is moved abroad, outside of the reach of the PRC.

In summary, Hong Kong is the interface by which China’s relatively closed capital markets interact with the rest of the world. Most investments from the outside world made into mainland China are channeled through Hong Kong. Likewise, most investments out of mainland China (including those of a dubious nature) are made through Hong Kong. Without the city, the Chinese mainland would be far more exposed to the currents of the international global economy than it is now.

ON NOVEMBER 24, Hong Kong held its district council elections. These councils are relatively unimportant decisionmaking bodies—they “serve as a line of communication between citizens and the government, handling community-level affairs such as transport and public facilities across the city’s 18 districts.” Nonetheless, the occasion was seen as a “de facto protest referendum” by practically everyone involved. It was a chance for Hongkongers to measurably speak out about current events, and Beijing was fairly confident that the result would indicate support for the government and “the hope…that the chaos will not continue.” Such a victory, from Beijing’s perspective, would have been grounds to crack down and stop the disruptive protests that had brought the city to a virtual standstill.

Instead, it was the pro-government/pro-Beijing camp that was put in its place. With the highest turnout ever, the pro-democracy camp won 389 out of the 450 seats up for election, tripling its holdings overnight. The establishment was shocked by the results. These clearly demonstrated what should have been apparent from the beginning: that the general public is the protest movement, and that if given a choice, the public would overwhelmingly prefer to run their own city.

WHAT IS to be done? At this point, the protest movement simply cannot be ignored, and the Hong Kong police can do little now that it’s painfully clear that the protests have widespread public support. A political solution of some sort is the only viable option.

Lam will have to resign as a start, but what comes afterward is up to debate. Beijing could try to buy off the public by tackling social problems that have gone unaddressed, including the city’s lack of affordable housing and its severe income inequality. But while this might satisfy some elements of society, it does not address Hongkongers’ clear desire for autonomous rule. Public sector reform, along with some concessions to the protestor’s demands, may be necessary. Hardliners in Beijing would likely push back against this, but it is hardly the worst option. After all, the decision could be publicly spun as the fulfillment of Article 68’s promise ahead of schedule. And if the PRC can publicly tolerate what is essentially a de facto independent and democratic Taiwan, it could quite possibly tolerate a Hong Kong that is given autonomy so long as it toes the party line when necessary. A spokesperson from the Hong Kong and Macau Affairs Office has already made clear what Beijing considers to be its three main red lines: “no harm to national security, no challenge to the central government’s authority and the Basic Law, and no using Hong Kong as a base to undermine China.”

The only other alternative for Hongkongers, should a political resolution fail, would be a dramatic push for independence. That would be a nightmare scenario for Beijing: since national security and cohesion trumps almost all other concerns, Chinese elites would face the prospect of needing to militarily occupy Hong Kong. That would come at a colossal cost. The validity of all existing commercial agreements would enter into question, especially if the city’s legal system were to change. Furthermore, if a relatively autonomous international financial center like Hong Kong can be subordinated to Beijing’s will, how could any commercial enterprise be confident about foreign investment in mainland China itself? And how will Chinese Communist Party elites grapple with the prospect of losing many of their presumably ill-gotten gains, along with the capacity to launder any future gains? Finally, wouldn’t the violent suppression of a highly-visible international city like Hong Kong paint the PRC as a pariah in the eyes of the world, resulting in an overnight international coalition against Beijing’s aggressive behavior?

And this is all without giving consideration to the tactical situation within an occupied Hong Kong. While the Chinese People’s Liberation Army would certainly succeed in putting down the protest movement, Hongkongers are more than wealthy, capable and well-connected enough to the outside world that they could put together a counter-insurgency, possibly (in a fulfillment of Beijing’s worst nightmares) with covert assistance from Western governments. As Americans can attest after almost two decades in Afghanistan and Iraq, fighting a dedicated counterinsurgency in an urban environment can test even the mightiest of armies. 

The choice for Beijing is clear: Hong Kong requires a political solution that addresses long-standing social grievances and the prickly issue of local autonomy. Failing to do so could lead to a repeat of the current situation at best, or an outright “Northern Irelandization” of the region at worst.

Carlos Roa is a Senior Editor of The National Interest.

Image: Reuters