One of the distressing things about writing for the media in Hong Kong these days is that there is one law for the government’s supporters and another for the rest of us. The system is, as a Brazilian president once put it, “for my friends, everything; for my enemies, the law.”
So during the trial of the 45 primary poll participants, carefree writers in pro-government publications were free to imply that all the defendants were guilty of the crimes charged, and some of them were guilty of other things as well. This used to be illegal. The offence is known as strict liability contempt of court.
You are not allowed to imply a particular conclusion for the trial, so it is also illegal to imply that the defendants are innocent. None of the numerous people who held this view dared to publish it. There has only been one prosecution for this offence in the last two decades. The accused publication was Apple Daily. One gets the message.
However, now the matter has concluded a few local voices, and some overseas ones, have ventured the opinion that all was not well with this case. And in due course this produced a predictable response from the government, and some more interesting ones in other places.
Oddly, though, these responses tend to ignore the most important criticisms. The question which has been awaiting an answer since before the trial, and indeed before the primary, is how can this possibly be illegal?
Lord Sumption (a very senior retired judge) having removed himself to a safe distance, put it bluntly. The Basic Law, he said, explicitly authorised the Legislative Council to reject the budget and … force the city’s leader to resign. It now appeared that “Legco cannot exercise an express constitutional right for a purpose unwelcome to the government.”
His Lordship characterised the situation as “legally indefensible”. This is a serious fundamental objection to the whole case. The council has a power conferred by law, and a procedure specified through which that power can be exercised. How can it be illegal for a candidate for election to say that he or she will, if elected, activate the procedure and exercise the power?
This point seems to elude commentators. Even Cliff Buddle, in an otherwise admirable dance along the tightrope that independent commentators all perform on these days, summarised the crime as the defendants intended to “blindly veto the government’s budget”. But blindness had nothing to do with it. The procedure was intended to allow the resolution of a situation in which the council and the Chief Executive could not get on with each other. The merits of the budget as a budget were not relevant.
Of course times have changed since the Basic Law was drafted in the 1990s. It seemed conceivable then that in some unlikely set of circumstances, and with a procedure designed to be discouraging, there might eventually be an occasion when it was acceptable for an elected Legco to dispense with the services of an elected Chief Executive. And the mainland officials who were “consulted” about the law went along with this.
Nowadays mainland officials are all subscribers to the theory of “whole-process democracy”, in which wisdom descends the pyramid from layer to layer like those extravagant displays in which a large bottle of champagne is used to fill several layers of wineglasses. The idea of someone appointed by them being fired by a local legislature is not acceptable at all.
The second objection which seems to have passed defenders of the prosecution by is that the prosecution’s case is based on the notion that sacking the Chief Executive would precipitate a “constitutional crisis”, paralyse the government or overthrow the system.
This is an entirely fictitious prospect drummed up to justify longer sentences. Whatever the organisers of the referendum may have dreamed, the Basic Law provides for a continued orderly and effective government at all stages of a bid to fire the Chief Executive. If there is no budget the government is authorised to continue with the old one. If there is no Chief Executive another official takes over pending the election of a replacement.
Of course there would still be considerable embarassment for whoever chose the CE in the first place. But embarassing officials is not a crime. Is it?
More forgivably, local commentators do not seem to pick up the fact that people overseas are considering the case in its context. As a poet once put it “You can tell a man who boozes by the company he chooses,” and the same thing applies to government actions.
For a government to jail large numbers of opposition politicians will always inspire suspicion. OK, politicians do get up to mischief, but are our guys completely innocent?
However when said jailing is accompanied by a blizzard of stories in which elections are cancelled, rules are changed, critical people are prosecuted for long-forgotten offences, companies and societies are abruptly closed, student unions disappear, and laws are changed to make it easier to prosecute … well never mind the details. The view from a distance is based on the overall impression: if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck … it’s a duck.
I also completely fail to understand why none of the defence lawyers for “47” made the completely obvious points that you have made here (and previously). Johannes Chan made exactly the same point in a recent interview.
If “conspiring to do something explicit defined and described by the Basic Law” is an offence then “even rule by law” has no meaning other than “don’t do anything that could possibly be construed other than as being subservient to the Emperor’s every wish and command”.
That’s probably why the international community have given John (my dog just died) Lee the bird.