“In Guam, even the dead are dying,” Chamorro author and activist Julian Aguon writes in his new book The Properties of Perpetual Light.
Aguon, a human rights lawyer and founder of Blue Ocean Law, has watched with anguish as his home island, along with the rest of the Marianas archipelago, has been environmentally degraded due to growing militarization. Known as Guåhan to its residents, Guam has been a US territory since 1898, and today, the Department of Defense occupies roughly 30 percent of its land — a share that’s only growing.
Click Here:
Most recently, the Pentagon decided to relocate roughly 5,000 Marines from Japan to Guam as part of a larger realignment of US military forces in the Asia-Pacific region. Meanwhile, the ongoing construction of the newest US Marine base, Camp Blaz, is nearing completion, despite major opposition from the island’s local residents. Further aggravating Guam’s native Chamorro people, military officials last summer found human remains and cultural artifacts dating back to the island’s pre-colonial Latte period during the excavation of the land, as they seemingly broke ground on ancient villages.
Guam’s pristine northern coastline has also recently been impacted by the construction of a massive firing range complex, which is an extension of the Marine base. It not only sits atop numerous historical sites, but it’s also dangerously near the island’s primary source of drinking water and would gravely damage the island’s natural resources and biodiversity — including more than 1,000 acres of native limestone forest and species, such as Guam’s slender-toed gecko.
On top of this, and in concert with a pandemic that’s taken the lives of hundreds of native Pacific Islanders, Aguon’s book comes at a time when Indigenous Chamorro people face growing erasure. Many Americans still don’t know that people born on the island are US citizens — citizens who enlist in and die serving the military at a higher rate per capita than anyone in the country yet cannot vote in US elections. In fact, earlier this month, QAnon espouser Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-GA) called Guam a “foreign country” that shouldn’t receive American tax dollars.
As such, Pacific Islander authors and their perspectives in literature are hard to come by, which Aguon hopes to change by inspiring future generations to challenge the dominant framework that centers white experiences and make their own art to take up space. While Aguon does not settle on one structure in The Properties of Perpetual Light — going from prose to poetry to political commentary — the common thread is grief, which he uses to talk about climate change; the colonial history and rampant US militarization of the Pacific Islands; and the generational trauma that’s been passed down for centuries. But he also finds power in hope.
“There’s so much beauty,” Aguon told Vox. “And as I say in the end [of the book], ‘A human being is here to be enjoyed, like a sunset or tangerine. We’re not oxen, we’re not here to endlessly plow the earth.’ We’re more than our suffering.”
As someone born and raised in the Northern Mariana Islands, a US territory just north of Guam, I talked to Aguon about home, his new book, and the need for more Pacific Islander representation in the literary world and beyond. Our conversation has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.
Rachel Ramirez
First, I want to talk about the title, The Properties of Perpetual Light. In the book, which at its core is about loss, you reference the prayer we say for the dead during rosaries in the islands: “Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord — and let perpetual light shine upon them.” Then later you write, “Perpetual Light is the Ancient Beauty.” Tell me more about what “perpetual light” means to you.
Julian Aguon
The whole book is really a process of interrogation, really interrogating the language that we use. The Catholic prayer for the dead — as I say in the introduction, I’ve recited those words thousands of times. But it is only in compiling this manuscript that I really reflected on their meaning. As kids on Guam, we’re always coming back from somebody’s rosary. It’s so common. We memorize these things, but we don’t necessarily really dive deep or interrogate the meaning of those words.
In the same way that the earth metals have different properties, what about their spiritual counterparts? I thought of hope and faith, but this idea of perpetual light has always spoken to me. We know from the Bible, the only thing to perceive light is love, and I was like, wow, that’s such a powerful idea. Our love brings things into being. To me, when we’re saying this prayer, we are sort of offering up the only thing we have, which is our love to light the way of the people we’ve lost, and this book has a lot of loss in it.
Rachel Ramirez
Being from the Mariana Islands myself, I know how rare it is to find a book written by a Chamorro author, or even a native Pacific Islander author, or even a book about the islands. Why was writing this book so significant to you as an Indigenous activist, lawyer, and author?
Julian Aguon
We need artists more than we believe we do, especially in hard times. 2020 was exceedingly difficult for so many of us. Here on Guam, the pain and trauma of living in the reality of a militarized colony really became very clear in an almost palpable way — you could feel it in the air that we breathe. For example, US military personnel last March came off of these ships, came into the community, infecting the community, violating numerous executive orders, local ordinances, running around — and I was just like wow, this is really symbolic of a larger thing that’s happening. All of these really deep, longstanding, entrenched inequalities were really laid bare for the whole world to see, and it really made us realize so much of what we think is an illusion.
I’ve been influenced by so many writers with different writing traditions. In the islands, we take so much information, but we don’t have enough of our own locally produced literature. I want this book to burn our illusion about certain things, and really dive deep into the pain, and to really explore, walk around, and fill the walls of the cave. As a community, I really feel like we were avoiding these really painful conversations. I want this book to blow all of that wide open.
Rachel Ramirez
Relatedly, I want to touch on invisibility. As a kid growing up on Saipan, I never saw our home islands as something largely unnoticed by the world, nor did I realize that not many people knew we were US citizens. It wasn’t until I moved to the mainland US that I really started to understand that there were misconceptions and a dearth of knowledge. Can you speak to this invisibility, particularly the indigeneity of Pacific Islanders who often don’t see themselves represented in literature?
Julian Aguon
With this book, in some ways, I was trying to cultivate in the reader a sense of respect for small things. What Arundhati Roy would call the “the whisper and scurry of small lives” — that’s partly what gets rendered invisible so often.
When I wrote the chapter “Yugu Means Yoke,” I had just lost my father from pancreatic cancer. My nuclear family was falling spectacularly apart. And I was just alone on a red dirt mountain, and I had to find my way in the world with so little guidance in that particular moment. In some ways, you could say I learned empathy from insects. I was just curious about these small lives. I was wondering if these snails could ever evade their predators. I was paying attention to how slowly they moved and really wanting them to move swiftly enough to save their own lives — and wanting the same thing for myself, even without knowing that. I was a young child growing up and would soon be struggling with being Indigenous and queer and questing or searching for oneself.
Diving into and understanding literature, I found that good books are lighthouses, that they light the way when we’re alone. I want this book to be that little lighthouse for the young readers who are also navigating really difficult terrain. Books are lighthouses, but they’re also mirrors in which our faces do or do not appear. I wanted young people from the Marianas or even the wider Micronesian islands to be able to read this book and see a piece of themselves in it, and also inspire them to write their own books or call out the art that’s just latent in them.
Rachel Ramirez
The way you used grief and trauma throughout the book as a theme to highlight issues that haunt native Pacific Islanders and the islands is profound. There’s your dad’s passing as you mentioned, but also human remains that were found during the military buildup excavation. Was this approach something that was intentional from the beginning before you started putting together the book?
Julian Aguon
I would actually be lying if I said that it was premeditated. The book sort of revealed itself to me while I was writing it because I didn’t really have an agenda or a plan. With all the noise of 2020 and isolation and suffering in every corner, I was just writing because I couldn’t not write. I was thinking about loss and processing it and I thought about how it all started with my first major loss, which is the loss of my father.
Most people use or handle grief in such a way that has an isolating effect. It cuts us off from other people. This book does exactly the opposite: It uses grief, but it tries to bring it into the heart of the village. It brings people together. I tried to use grief, in some ways, in an Islander way. Our funerals back home are deeply sad like everyone else’s, you know this, but they’re also oddly celebratory. They’re like parties. We’re celebrating the life that one has lived, and the only way to grieve the enormity of certain kinds of loss is to grieve it together. This book is an invitation to do that, and that’s the one aspect of it that made it quite special to me.
Rachel Ramirez
I’m really curious about how you didn’t settle with just one structure in the book. You used prose, poetry, political commentary, as the chapter changes. For me, it allowed room for processing and understanding what all that grief meant. In one chapter you talk about the time Guam made headlines because of the threat from North Korea, the next you talk about something personal about your father, then you get into a poem. What inspired you to write it that way?
Julian Aguon
A good book can be like a record or like a music album with different notes — and you’re hitting the listener in different places. They do range in form like prose and poetry, but they also range in occasions. There’s eulogies marking an actual death versus commencement speeches to young people who are about to step into the world as it actually is, not as they wish it to be. It’s almost like a kaleidoscope of life experiences. I tried to meet readers where they’re actually at no matter where that is in the spectrum of life. What you’re getting into with the switching up of the medium or the styles, is that it’s in some ways like this collage, right? It’s like a lovely mess, but life is a lovely mess. Part of my playing around with some of the structure was about that, and on the other hand, playing around with the structure is also because I think you can only say certain things in certain ways. Poetry does something that the other styles can’t.
At the end, for example, I’ve just said many things, and I ended with this poem, which was about a flower. It’s just a simple poem about a flower, but about our respect for strength, as opposed to power. I feel like that is such a theme in the book, and I wanted to leave the reader with this impossibly gentle image of this flower, thriving in such rugged and hostile territory. Not only because it’s about an appreciation of beauty, or an announcement of the presence of the beautiful, but also because it’s primarily about an insistence on it, paying attention to small things. The book is not prescriptive. I’m not prescribing the answer. I’m not answering a question. Rather, I’m just enlarging the question.
Rachel Ramirez
I remember attending a panel of UN delegates from Guåhan at New York University in 2019, and the panelists asked the room something to the effect of, “When you hear Guam, what do you think of?” Then immediately there was a chorus of the words “island” and “military.” What can you say about this outside perception, which in a sense conceals the growing issue of climate or militarization in Micronesia?
Julian Aguon
I think it has something to do with what Toni Morrison would have described as writing beyond the white gaze — and in my book, I was trying to stretch that analogy and write beyond the colonial gaze, not what outsiders see. There’s so much beauty, and as I say in the end, “A human being is here to be enjoyed, like a sunset or tangerine. We’re not oxen, we’re not here to endlessly plow the earth.” We’re more than our suffering.
Part of what happens is this standard narrative gets cast and that account shows we’re suffering and we’re fighting this largest military buildup in recent history — all of that is true; we are on course to becoming one of the most militarized places on earth — but it is also true that we come from wayfinders, that we have such rich, spiritual and intellectual sources or knowledge to draw upon. Our homeland is so beautiful. I mean, it’s arresting. So it also is important to highlight what we’re fighting for — the beauty and the richness and the diversity.
Rachel Ramirez
Speaking of beauty, you also center and highlight women a lot — from the chapter “My Mother’s Bamboo Bracelets,” where you told a story about a group of women weaving their hair together to build a giant net to save the island from being eaten by a giant fish, to “Fighting Words,” about your grandmother surviving a traumatic event. Why was deploying that feminist insight such an important theme?
Julian Aguon
There are definitely several feminist currents swimming throughout the book. There’s “the personal is political,” which is a quintessential feminist insight. There’s also the beautiful celebration of defiant people and writers who swam so squarely against the tide. And I have been nourished by Black feminism and other theories of liberation, which have clearly impacted me and my work.
That’s also where we come from in Guam and in many of our Micronesian islands. We are matrilineal. Originally, for example, the land tenure was passed on the mother’s side or that Chamorro women didn’t use to take their husband’s name. We organized our society based along those lines. That’s naturally where I gravitate to. And in my personal life, my father died very early so my mother raised me, along with random amazing women, mostly women of color, who showed up in my life and nourished me and nurtured me and taught me and instructed me as my life progressed.
Rachel Ramirez
I want to close with what’s probably the most basic question. Even though grief is an overarching theme of your book, you also talk about light and hope. Where do you find hope?
Julian Aguon
I don’t think the two — grief and hope — are really disconnected. I think we need to have a deeper understanding of hope. Hope is earned. You have to put in the work. On the ground, when you’re in community with other people and you’re trying to build power, there is nothing like that. That it’s a high that can barely be explained because you’re all together and you realize you’re moved by your shared fate. You realize that our fates are intertwined.
I’ve never felt more robustly alive than when I’m in community with other people who believe that they can change the world. Solidarity and community-building and building power in and across our communities is the work we have to do.
President Joe Biden has been presented with three broad options for how to prolong or end America’s involvement in the 20-year Afghanistan War — and all three have significant drawbacks for the administration and the Afghan people.
Here’s what Biden’s military and intelligence advisers offered up in recent days, as reported by the New York Times and the Washington Post’s David Ignatius, details of which I later confirmed.
The first option is to adhere to former President Donald Trump’s deal with the Taliban, which would require Biden to withdraw all remaining 2,500 US troops in Afghanistan by May 1. The second is to negotiate an extension with the insurgent group, allowing American forces to remain in the country beyond early May. And third is to defy the Trump-Taliban pact altogether and keep fighting in Afghanistan with no stated end date.
Each plan has serious pitfalls, experts and US officials say.
If the US leaves in the next three months, it’s likely the Taliban will overrun the US-backed Afghan government and once again make life worse for millions of Afghans, especially women and children.
Staying in Afghanistan just a little bit longer would likely delay that takeover, but would also expend any diplomatic capital the US has left with the Taliban and keep US troops in harm’s way.
Finally, violating the terms of the agreement and remaining indefinitely will almost certainly lead the Taliban to restart its campaign, put on hold ahead of the May 1 deadline, to kill American service members in the country.
“These are all bad options,” said Asfandyar Mir, a Stanford University expert on the Afghanistan War.
Multiple US officials told me in recent days that the administration’s Afghanistan policy review is nearing its end, with one telling me they expect Biden to make a decision “very soon.”
“I don’t know which way the president will go,” said this official, who like others spoke with me on the condition of anonymity to talk freely about a sensitive national security deliberation. Another person familiar with the Afghanistan discussions told me it’s clear a full withdrawal by May 1 is “off the table.”
Public statements from the Biden team offer additional clues as to which way Biden will lean.
Biden promised during the presidential campaign to bring home US combat troops from Afghanistan, but gave himself until the end of his first term to do so (though, importantly, this statement came before the Trump-Taliban deal). He also said he would still potentially keep a small US military presence in the country to continue counterterrorism operations against ISIS and al-Qaeda. That meant it was always possible Biden wouldn’t abide by the terms of the Trump-era deal.
Recent statements by Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin also suggest a full withdrawal may not be on the immediate horizon. A Pentagon summary of his comments during a NATO ministerial last Thursday said Austin had “reassured Allies that the U.S. would not undertake a hasty or disorderly withdrawal from Afghanistan.”
In comments to reporters the following day, Austin added, “[W]e are committed to a responsible and sustainable end to this war, while preventing Afghanistan from becoming a safe haven for terrorist groups … that threaten the interests of the United States and our allies, and ensuring a just and durable end to the long-running conflict.”
The signal many are getting from Austin and others is that Biden will be the fourth president to prolong America’s engagement in Afghanistan, most likely by pushing for an extension to the deadline.
Biden still hasn’t made a decision, though, so it’s worth taking a look at the three options he has in front of him — and why each is fraught with risk and danger.
Option 1: Withdraw all 2,500 US troops by May 1
Few experts or US officials I spoke to believe Biden will adhere to the timeline laid out in the Trump-Taliban peace deal — either because Biden wants to seek a more lasting diplomatic solution to the war in Afghanistan or because his team fears an intensified civil war on the heels of a US withdrawal would make the administration look bad.
In January, Secretary of State Tony Blinken told Afghan President Ashraf Ghani that the US supports diplomatic negotiations between the government and the Taliban. America’s hope is to help “achieve a durable and just political settlement and permanent and comprehensive ceasefire that benefits all Afghans.”
But those talks are barely underway and have little to no chance of ending by the May 1 deadline. Both parties hold opposite positions on key questions — among them, how much power can the Taliban have in Afghanistan’s government? — that likely won’t be reconciled in a few months. What’s more, the Taliban hasn’t stopped killing Afghans or curbed it’s relationship with al-Qaeda.
To ensure those talks proceed instead of stalling out, many experts believe a small American troop presence must remain in the country.
Still, there is a vocal contingent advocating for the US to finally withdraw from Afghanistan after 20 years of war.
“I support leaving by May,” said Adam Weinstein, who served as a Marine in Afghanistan and is now a research fellow at the Quincy Institute for Responsible Statecraft in Washington, DC. “The Afghanistan talks may fall apart if we leave, but they also will fall apart if we stay.”
Weinstein acknowledges that the Taliban will surely intensify its civil war with the Afghan government once the US departs, further destabilizing an already bad situation. But that’s likely to happen whenever America withdraws its forces, whether in May or later. “Leaving by May frontloads these risks while not risking American lives,” he told me.
Which leads to the second reason observers doubt Biden will stick to the May withdrawal timeline: Images of a renewed, bloody war after America’s withdrawal plastered on the front pages of newspapers would embarrass the Biden administration. Pressure would mount on the president and his team to reenter the fray to quell the violence, just like many pushed Obama to send US forces back into Iraq to defeat ISIS.
It’s therefore possible that leaving prematurely might lead the US to reenter the conflict again — perhaps with an even larger troop presence.
Weinstein told me he knows that’s a risk and hopes Biden would resist such pressure. There will be problems, but all this comes down to the fact that America hasn’t proven its ability to win the war against the Taliban, even with tens of thousands more troops in the country.
Today, the insurgents control more territory in Afghanistan than they did in 2001 when the US invaded, making it even harder to push for a military victory.
“You could kick the can down the road, or you could accept the limits of US control of ground realities in Afghanistan,” he said.
In other words, leave now and don’t look back.
Option 2: Negotiate an extension with the Taliban, then leave
This is the option most people I spoke with favor and believe Biden will choose.
They argue that withdrawing by May is simply too soon, but that staying indefinitely is also politically and militarily infeasible. Delaying America’s full withdrawal for a few months or even years, then, allows the peace process to play out and for an unhurried US exit from Afghanistan.
“It’s unquestionable that an extension should be negotiated,” said Laurel Miller, who was the acting special representative for Afghanistan and Pakistan in the Obama administration.
Simply put, the Afghan government and the Taliban won’t strike a deal by April, but they might if given enough time. Penning an agreement would allow officials in Kabul to lead their country without the major threat of violence, while also giving the Taliban some governing power and global legitimacy.
“There’s reason to believe the Taliban would genuinely negotiate and accept some kind of political settlement [that] satisfies their interests,” said Miller, who’s now at the International Crisis Group.
With such a deal in place, the US and its NATO allies could extricate themselves from Afghanistan without fear their absence would lead to more bloodshed.
This is what Ghani, Afghanistan’s president, and others close to him have been pushing for. After NATO last week said its 5,000 troops wouldn’t leave the country imminently, Ghani said their presence would help provide a “window of opportunity to accelerate the peace process.”
Click Here:
An extension was also the key recommendation in a congressionally mandated report earlier this month from the Afghanistan Study Group, an independent, bipartisan commission of experts co-chaired by retired Marine Gen. Joseph Dunford, former Republican Sen. Kelly Ayotte, and US Institute of Peace President Nancy Lindborg.
But this Goldilocks option has flaws, too.
For example, it’s unclear whether the Taliban would even agree to an extension. Their messaging for America to date, Stanford’s Mir said, is “leave by May 1 or we fight you.” Biden therefore risks adding to the 2,400 dead Americans in Afghanistan if the US overstays its welcome.
And even if it does, staying beyond May 1 would mean Biden chose to prolong America’s engagement despite having a ready-made excuse for withdrawal. That would no doubt anger a lot of people, namely progressives and some on the right, who hoped the Democrat would finally bring the US war effort there to a close.
“What’s worse: Being accused of being too status quo, or being accused of taking risks and having ugly eventualities happen on your watch?” Miller asked, describing the question the Biden team is wrestling with.
There’s also a glaring weakness with this plan: There’s just no guarantee that the Afghan government and the Taliban will actually make a deal. After months or even years of talking, it’s possible neither side will make concessions to the other to hash out a comprehensive peace pact. If that’s the case, US troops will have remained in danger for little to no progress.
Still, experts believe there are ways the US can get the Taliban to agree to an extension and perhaps pave the path toward a negotiated deal. That could include lifting UN and other sanctions on the Taliban, working with Kabul to release some or all of the group’s 7,000 prisoners, and removing the group from the State Department’s terrorist list.
Each of those moves would be politically costly and may end up strengthening the Taliban without eventually striking an agreement.
But for some, taking bold steps to improve the chance of peace after so many years of fighting is worth the risk.
Option 3: Stay in Afghanistan indefinitely
Everyone I spoke with said this is by far the worst option. Continuing the war with no clear end date would keep US troops in harm’s way and further doom any prospects of a negotiated peace, since one of the key reasons the parties are talking is because America said it was leaving soon.
Plus, there’s little popular support in the US for continuing the mission in Afghanistan, as most polling shows Americans prefer a withdrawal sooner rather than later.
More than that, there’s just no clear path to victory in the war.
As mentioned above, the Taliban today controls more territory than it did when the US invaded in 2001. After 20 years of war, trillions of dollars spent, and tens of thousands of deaths, the US has only managed to achieve what Army Gen. Mark Milley, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, humbly described as “a modicum of success” in Afghanistan.
At this point, there’s little reason to expect that the US staying in Afghanistan indefinitely, spending billions more and risking more US lives, will magically improve that outcome. And doing so is just not desirable considering the coronavirus pandemic has killed 500,000 Americans, Iran nears the acquisition of a nuclear bomb, China grows in strength, domestic terrorism threatens the homeland, and more.
So why even discuss this option? It’s not that Biden would pick it, but that he might be forced into it if the limited extension (option 2) fails to actually produce a peace agreement.
Again, few think Biden will withdraw all US troops by May 1, which means he will be keeping US service members in the country with or without the Taliban’s approval. If he does it without their approval, that could lead the insurgents to attack and kill American personnel as they overtake major Afghan cities, perhaps even Kabul.
At that point, withdrawing from Afghanistan would be harder, experts say, because the administration won’t want to look like it’s running away from the fight. A return to a larger war, then, would likely ensue, leading to more death and woes for the millions of Afghans who’ve already suffered tremendously.
“If a negotiated extension fails, there’s not going to be a withdrawal,” said the Quincy Institute’s Weinstein.
If there were a perfect option, the US would have found it by now. It hasn’t, and that’s left Biden with three paths to take, each full of obstacles and risk. It’s a tough spot to be in, but sometimes the options a president has range from horrible to bad.
The hope is he picks the least bad one.
Hong Kong transformed in a year.
Starting in June 2019, the city convulsed with protests over a controversial extradition bill. That expanded into a pro-democracy movement that sought to push back against China’s efforts to further erode the city-state’s already tenuous autonomy, and the freedoms that went with it.
By June 2020, the power of those uprisings brought China’s full might down on Hong Kong, as Beijing implemented a draconian national security law that stifled dissent — or anything that looked even remotely like it in the eyes of the Chinese Communist Party.
Do Not Split, an Oscar-nominated short documentary by filmmaker Anders Hammer, charts some of Hong Kong’s most tumultuous months of the pro-democracy uprising and its troubling, unclear end in the face of China’s crackdown. The story is told by the protesters and activists on the front lines, the young people who are trying to protect the freedoms of Hong Kong — freedoms that were supposed to be guaranteed until 2047 under the “one country, two systems” arrangement China agreed to when it took back control of Hong Kong from Britain in 1997 — for as long as they can.
Even it’s a battle they know they are losing.
“It was very difficult to understand how this would work. How could this small group of young people fight China?” journalist and filmmaker Anders Hammer, the director of Do Not Split, told me. “At the same time, it was really something unique to watch how they work together. You could really sense that solidarity among the protesters, and a great deal of sacrifice and this communion feeling in the street.”
Do Not Split follows demonstrators to the edges of the protests: where they regrouped to recover from tear gas, where they camped out in a field after a clash with police at the City University of Hong Kong in November 2019.
The film also reveals just how explosive these protests became; frame after frame shows the escalation, from protesters shielding themselves with umbrellas from assaults of tear gas to protesters flinging firebombs at lines of police. (The full documentary is now available from Field of Vision.)
The Hong Kong protests were largely leaderless and anonymous, but the documentary follows a few characters closely, including Joey Siu, a student activist who, in the film, always seems to be hovering around the latest protest, observing and explaining what she’s witnessing, reckoning with what’s happening in Hong Kong in real time.
Siu, who is also a US citizen, decided to use her position as a student activist to try to lobby lawmakers abroad and bring attention to Hong Kong’s pro-democracy struggle, actions that became even riskier under the national security law. This fall, she made the decision to come to the United States and continue fighting for Hong Kong from America.
“It is always a struggle between staying and suffering with the others, or to leave and suffer on your own but to be able to do something. I made the choice,” Siu told me.
I called Siu to talk more about her experiences during the Hong Kong protests; how they have left her generation traumatized; and how the national security law has stifled the city she loves but is not giving up on yet.
Our conversation, edited and condensed, follows.
Jen Kirby
How did you first get involved in the extradition bill protests?
Joey Siu
It was, I would say, an accident. Every university in Hong Kong, we’ve got a student union, which represents the students and participates in all kinds of negotiations with the school and fights for the welfare of the students.
Right before the extradition bill movement broke out in Hong Kong, there was no one standing for the student union executive committee elections at my school. Then one of my friends said he was willing to be nominated as the acting president, and he asked, “Hey, Joey, are you willing to be the vice president?” I was pretty surprised when he approached me, because I never expected myself to be taking up the role.
I actually rejected him several times. I said, “No, I don’t feel like I can be good at this. I don’t feel like I’m a good choice for you.” But he insisted. So he convinced me, and I agreed to that. I was nominated by the Student Union Council right before the first protests on the 9th of June 2019, when the whole extradition bill movement broke out.
Then, when the movement broke out in Hong Kong, we realized that, as student leaders, we had the responsibility and the capacity to stand out and to do something. Alongside other university student unions, we had been organizing and encouraging people to participate in protests. We had been helping to allocate resources like safety goggles, gloves, and other protective gear.
That was how I started my activism. And then very soon, in July 2019, we realized that it is actually a leaderless movement, where we no longer need student leaders, we no longer need politicians, to guide us. We felt like, “Well, what can we do if we are no longer needed to organize protests and assemblies?”
And at that time, we found that the United States Congress was about to discuss the Hong Kong Human Rights and Democracy Act. We felt like, as student leaders or as ordinary Hong Kong students, we might be able to provide a unique perspective on what was going on in Hong Kong and why it was so important for the international community to do something to help.
Since then, I have been more active in terms of international advocacy for Hong Kong. I had been flying around to different countries during 2019 — US to Canada, Germany, Brussels, the UK — to advocate for international solidarity with Hong Kong.
Jen Kirby
You said you got into it sort of by accident, but obviously you ended up being fully committed. What motivated you to do that?
Joey Siu
Personally, I have always been very candid on social issues, especially Hong Kong politics. I have always paid very close attention to what is going on in Hong Kong, locally and also internationally. That is the fundamental reason why I felt like I should be doing something for the people I care about and for the place I love.
So getting involved in international advocacy for Hong Kong, I felt like that might be the thing that I could do the best for Hong Kong. We all have different roles. Some of us are front-line protesters. Some of us are voluntary first-aid providers. Some of us are citizen journalists.
Every Hongkonger who loves the city, who believes in those values, is trying to find a way to devote ourselves. So I would say this is how I contribute. This is how I devote myself to defend the values that I care for.
Jen Kirby
Did you continue participating in the protests on the front lines?
Joey Siu
I had been starting to go on international advocacy visits ever since September 2019. However, during the time when I was still in Hong Kong, or where I came back to Hong Kong, there were still protests and assemblies, and I would still go to them because I felt like, as I have said, everyone is trying to do our best to devote to the city.
Jen Kirby
You mentioned that you took your first international trip in September 2019. That feels like a really pivotal time for the movement. In early September, Hong Kong Chief Executive Carrie Lam rescinded the extradition bill, but the protests continued, and the world was really paying attention by that point. How did that affect your activism abroad?
Joey Siu
Well, at the very beginning, of course, we were protesting to take the extradition bill amendment down and to stop the Hong Kong government from again violating the will of the people. However, I think it was in late July 2019 — especially after the Yuen Long attack [Ed. note: A mob, believed to have ties to organized crime, violently attacked protesters] — when I think a lot of Hong Kong people realized and awakened to the unlimited power of the Hong Kong government and also the Chinese government.
From my personal experience, at the very beginning, we had been putting a lot of focus on telling people what the extradition bill amendment was about and why it was so important for us to take it down.
However, as we have realized that we are actually protesting against the Chinese communist regime, we have been shifting our focus in terms of telling people why we are doing that. Why it is so important for all of us to stand in solidarity in terms of containing the rise of the regime in Beijing. Why we have to pay attention to Hong Kong.
Jen Kirby
In the film Do Not Split, you say you had hoped to be a teacher, but you don’t believe it can be a path for you anymore because of your outspokenness. When did you realize that your activism in Hong Kong also meant a change in your future, and your identity?
Joey Siu
Well, I mean, I have always known that I want to be a person who could bring change to society. And that is one of the reasons why I would like to be a teacher, because I felt like by being a teacher, I could actually bring change to society by advocating and teaching my students the correct values, or the values that I believe in. So I felt like I have always been able to understand myself; it’s just that I did not expect myself to be going out to the public or to be changing society or bringing change to other people by becoming an activist.
Actually, the moment when I realized that I can no longer be a teacher is when I first found that my personal information was being posted online, on Facebook and on other social media websites, by the pro-Beijing camps. When I first saw myself being criticized by a lot of mouthpieces in the media who support the Beijing regime, that is when I realized, “Wow, this is going to bring a very big change to my life.” And that what I’d expected to do in the future might not be happening.
Jen Kirby
In the documentary, you also describe yourself as traumatized, and you say it’s a feeling you share with other protesters. Can you talk a little about that?
Joey Siu
I think it’s not only me, but most of those Hong Kong protesters who actually participated in protests, or have been following what is going on in Hong Kong, might have a sense of PTSD [post-traumatic stress disorder] after going through all these experiences.
Especially because when we participate in protests, we very frequently witness police brutality going on and you can often see your fellow protesters, or people you know, getting beaten up by the police force with the batons, with tear gas, with pepper spray — all these kinds of weapons that they use to suppress us.
Participating in the protests is also very traumatizing because of the feeling that you are being chased by a whole bunch of police armed with so many kinds of lethal weapons that they might use and point at you. It’s really, really frightening. The kind of feeling where you have to escape.
The thing that I really couldn’t forget about was the death of the first protester in Hong Kong, which happened in June 2019. His surname was Leung. Mr. Leung jumped, or fell, from a building in [the] Admiralty [district], to protest against the government and to use his death as an awakening to call upon Hongkongers not to give up protesting against the evil regime.
That night, I was in a meeting with other student leaders. During meetings, we put our phones outside of the room so as to avoid any kind of information leakage. Before we put away our phones, we knew that Mr. Leung was on the building in Admiralty. He was standing there, protesting, holding a board. I mean, nobody would expect him to fall. Nobody expected that to happen.
After our meeting, we had a break, and I took my phone and I turned it on. I saw all this news, I saw the live broadcast, and I saw all these videos of him in a yellow raincoat, falling down from the building. I just couldn’t forget about it.
Jen Kirby
That seems really tough, and because this movement was so organic, I get the sense that there was a real sense of connection among all the protesters — it felt as if you all knew each other. I understand how that can weigh on you.
Joey Siu
In Hong Kong, we describe our fellow protesters, or people who have the same kind of beliefs as we do, as 手足 (sau zuk,) which in English means your arms and your legs. In other words, it means you are brothers and sisters.
A lot of protesters really [feel] that way. Even though I might not know the one who was standing beside me during a protest, I do believe he is actually my family member. I do believe that we have that connection.
I think that is the reason why I also feel very traumatized or have the sense of PTSD, after going through all this. Because when I was witnessing police brutality or arrests, I felt like that is my brother or my sister or a family member of mine. It is not just a random Hongkonger. I actually see the connection with the victim.
Jen Kirby
Given that deep sense of connection, and how powerful the movement was, it’s hard to believe how much has changed now, after China passed the national security law. What is your sense of how the law has changed the pro-democracy movement?
Joey Siu
The situation was deteriorating in a very rapid way, because after the imposition of the national security law, you see a lot of arrests made by not only the Hong Kong Police Force but also by [their] national security agents.
From those arrests, you can actually see how restricted the level of freedom of expression and freedom of speech and freedom of press is in Hong Kong — I mean, not to mention organizing or participating in a face-to-face protest or assembly — that it is not possible under the national security law.
Even when you’re expressing your own political beliefs online, or organizing very, very, absolutely peaceful democratic primaries in Hong Kong, or even when you’re trying to participate in institutionalized elections, they can still find a way to prosecute you under very serious criminal offenses, which could not only lead to 10 years to life in prison but could also allow the Hong Kong government to extradite you to mainland China [for prosecution].
So, yes, after the imposition of the national security law, Hong Kong’s situation just worsened so rapidly, in such a vigorous way, to where you can feel a sense of fear in the city. You can feel how frightened or concerned or worried people are, because we do not know what is going to happen.
We don’t know who is going to be arrested. We don’t know what kind of things that we say could lead us to being arrested. We don’t know, if we’re arrested, how many years are we going to spend in jail? And we don’t even know whether we are going to spend our time in Hong Kong or in mainland China.
Before the national security law, the Hong Kong government was trying to rule by fear through the police force. After the national security law, they have been ruling by fear by arresting everyday protesters in Hong Kong.
Jen Kirby
Were you ever targeted specifically, or arrested at any point?
Joey Siu
I was not arrested; however, I was pretty frequently being followed by — I don’t know if they were national security agents or the Hong Kong Police Force, I simply knew that somebody was following me, but I couldn’t verify their identity.
That was pretty terrifying, because at that time, I was working alongside several friends to help another friend of ours with his democratic primary election campaign. We often worked until pretty late at night, and sometimes I found that I was being followed from the underground station to my home. Usually there would be minibuses; however, when it’s too late, there are no minibuses and the only way for me to get back home would be to walk.
It is pretty terrifying, because you don’t know who they are. You don’t know if they’re Hong Kong police or the national security agents. You don’t know if they’re really coming to get you; you don’t know whether you will be sent to a police station. I mean, it would be the best scenario to be sent to a police station in Hong Kong instead of being sent directly to mainland China. But you just do not know.
Jen Kirby
When did you start to notice someone was tailing you?
Joey Siu
I started being followed ever since June 2019, when I first came out as a student leader, but that was not so frequent, and that was not so frightening because you still felt like, “Oh, they are the Hong Kong police,” and if you’re arrested by them, you would be sent to a police station. You were still certain about the kinds of procedures that would happen if you were really being arrested. However, after the national security law in July 2020, you don’t even know what’s going to happen after an arrest.
Jen Kirby
That’s terrifying. Do you know people who were arrested under the national security law?
Joey Siu
A very close friend of mine, she had been involved pretty actively with a student group that advocated for Hong Kong independence that was suspended after the imposition of the national security law. However, still, she was arrested by national security agents in the Hong Kong Police Force for inciting secession of state.
That was a pretty early arrest under the national security law, and that was pretty terrifying. Because at that point, nobody knew what was going to happen. We didn’t know whether the court or the police force was going to allow them to get bail and then to come back home after being investigated for 48 hours. At that point, everything was so uncertain.
But after I left Hong Kong, things just kept getting worse. Like, every candidate that I met during the democratic primaries was arrested.
Jen Kirby
I can remember when the law was first passed, there was so much confusion about how it would be implemented, and I’m sure that uncertainty was terrifying. Can you give an example now of what happens when someone is arrested — for example, what did happen to your friend who was arrested for secession of state?
Joey Siu
She was arrested before I left Hong Kong. When she was arrested, she was investigated by the National Security Department [the Chinese government’s security agency in Hong Kong, established after the passage of the national security law] and also by the Hong Kong Police Force, for more than 30 hours, if I remember. Then her traveling documents were confiscated; she could not leave Hong Kong, and she has to report to the police station every month. Very recently, the police force returned to her traveling documents, telling her that you no longer have to come and report to us.
For the people that I know who were arrested a few weeks ago, during the massive arrests there, they were being investigated, their traveling documents were being confiscated, they had to report to the police station, they cannot leave Hong Kong.
That is pretty much the procedure. However, there are, of course, other more serious cases in Hong Kong; for example, Jimmy Lai, who was arrested under the national security law, and his bail was revoked.
My sense is the Hong Kong government and Chinese government have been trying to manipulate the law as a way to silence the dissidents in Hong Kong, because after being arrested, people cannot leave Hong Kong.
So their only choice would be to stay in Hong Kong. And to stay in Hong Kong and not to be arrested again, you cannot be so vocal as you used to be. You have to be more careful with things you say, the things you do, and everything.
Jen Kirby
So it sounds like, if I’m understanding you correctly, that many people are being arrested, but they’re in a holding pattern — they have to report to the police, but they can’t leave. Rather than handing down punishment, it sounds as if authorities are trying to just exert control.
Joey Siu
It’s kind of like silencing them. I also feel that it’s kind of a warning from the Chinese communist regime to not only the arrestees themselves, but also to the other voices in the society. They’re trying to use arrests to warn those vocal voices in Hong Kong not to say anything anymore, and also to warn the other ordinary, everyday Hong Kong citizens that, “Hey, we’re now arresting everyone from all of the political spectrum, for anything you say. So you people better mind your words.”
Jen Kirby
When did you decide that you needed to leave? What made you finally say, “I can’t stay in Hong Kong anymore”?
Joey Siu
Well, it’s pretty complicated. I was actually born in the States, and I moved to Hong Kong when I was very young because my parents wanted me to learn Chinese and also the Chinese culture. Ever since my family found out that I was becoming a student activist, they’d been trying to get me to leave Hong Kong because they felt like I might be arrested and that it wasn’t safe for me to stay in Hong Kong. And that if I have the choice of going back to the States, why don’t I?
They’d always planned to move back to the States when I completed my undergraduate degree. We had that plan in the future. But then they felt like there might be a need for me to return to the States earlier.
But I never thought about leaving Hong Kong because I felt that is the place where I grew up, where my friends are, where I really had the connection.
However, in June 2020, when they were talking about imposing the national security law, I began receiving a lot of warnings and advice from people I know, and all the advice I got was like, “It’s better for you to leave Hong Kong because not only are you a student activist, you’re also an American citizen.”
At that time, it was catching everybody’s attention that the Chinese communist regime was making use of “hostage diplomacy” [threatening to detain foreign citizens unless their governments accede to China’s demands] to make the other governments bow down to them. So they felt like, well, it makes it more dangerous, being an American citizen, so you should leave Hong Kong. Perhaps not permanently — but just to leave and see how things are going. If it is safe, you could still come back.
At first I felt like, “Well, nothing has been going on yet.” The national security law had not been imposed yet, and even if it is imposed, we don’t know what is going on; maybe they would not be making active use of it. So I still decided to stay until September 2020.
Because of the position I was in, the national security law stopped or paused my ability to make connections with people from other countries, because I didn’t want to get myself into big trouble for colluding with foreign forces.
But then there was the case of the 12 Hongkongers who tried to flee the city, but were captured by the Chinese authorities and then detained.
After that, I started to reconnect with human rights organizations and foreign politicians that I’ve met in the US, Germany, the UK, and Canada, to ask them to speak out on behalf of the 12 Hongkongers, and to encourage them to implement a “lifeboat scheme” to help Hong Kong protesters to relocate to other countries.
I had been secretly attending virtual meetings, and they’d been trying to persuade me not to. But then I asked them, “If I’m not going to talk to you, who in Hong Kong will?” And then after that, I felt like, “Well, perhaps by leaving Hong Kong, I could be making the best use of my abilities and the connections that I built over 2019.” So I decided to leave.
It is always a struggle between staying in a city and then somehow dying or suffering with the city, or to choose to leave the city and to suffer on your own but to be able to do something. I made the choice.
Jen Kirby
Do you see Hong Kong as dying right now?
Joey Siu
I would say the city itself is dying. You can actually see that Hong Kong is gradually becoming another mainland city of China.
However, I would say that I’m pretty optimistic when it comes to the Hong Kong people, because Hong Kong people are trying to sustain the movement in so many creative ways. The city itself might be dying. However, I would say the spirit of the Hong Kong people will be long-lasting.
Jen Kirby
This is a very tough question, but in talking to protesters, I always got the sense that they understood they might lose to China eventually — in 2047, for example, when the “one country, two systems” agreement was set to end. But the goal was to try to protect Hong Kong’s democratic values until that point, as much as possible. Do you think the success of that movement, in some ways, backfired? That it hastened China’s decision to clamp down on Hong Kong?
Joey Siu
Before the whole pro-democracy struggle started, a lot of Hong Kong people still felt like we might be able to maintain and to live well under the “one country, two systems” structure at least until 2047.
The pro-democracy struggle is an awakening call for a lot of Hong Kong people. I feel like the majority of Hong Kong people, no matter whether you are on the pro-democracy side or pro-Beijing side, we have all realized the fact that Hong Kong is not going to maintain a high degree of autonomy, or the same lifestyle, until 2047. I think this is a thing that all of us can agree on. Everybody can witness the encroachment and change in Hong Kong.
Most of the people in Hong Kong right now do not believe anything the Chinese Communist Party government says anymore. They’re not going to respect any kind of promises. Even if the “one country, two systems” agreement is part of an international treaty, they are not going to respect it.
Jen Kirby
I’ve been thinking a lot about the Capitol attack in January in the US, and how it contrasts with Hong Kong’s fight for democracy. How do you see the erosion of democracy in the US as affecting the struggle in Hong Kong?
Joey Siu
A lot of Hong Kong people have been relying or giving very high hopes on the United States to take action to defend Hong Kong or to stand up to China. However, with all the things going on, politicians in the US will, of course, prioritize those domestic issues.
With our plates being so full with different domestic issues of the transition, with all these kinds of issues in regards to racial justice, to gender equality, to climate change, to the bipartisanship around two parties, it would be understandable that people here in the US might not be paying so much attention to Hong Kong and China issues as they used to do in 2019 or 2020.
However, I always believe that the urgency of tackling the China challenge or the China threat will always be one of the most important issues of American politicians.
I also felt like it is definitely another lesson for Hongkongers to learn, because we have always admired the US for being the world’s greatest and most respected democracy. However, witnessing all the kinds of things to happen in the US in the past month, we have realized that no democracy in the world is a perfect one.
Click Here: