A rare moment of public preoccupation has hit Hong Kong as a result of the incident which would in due course probably be called Messigate by the popular tabloids, if we had any left.
The hero of this debacle is Lionel Messi, a footballer of sublime gifts who is now getting a bit long in the tooth. As footballers sometimes do at this stage of their careers, he has moved from the highly competitive European scene to the US of A, where the football is worse but the money is better. Not so much a swan song as a goose with golden eggs song.
So, Messi now twinkles his agile toes for a new club called Inter Miami. The name is a straight lift from a legendary Italian club, Inter Milan. Inter Miami is not yet legendary.
But Messi is, so when a local lifestyle magazine, backed by a government grant and official approval for the staging of “mega events,” arranged for Inter Miami to come and perform in Hong Kong there was great excitement among football fans.
Many of them had the opportunity to watch a training session or to see Messi from a distance. Less publicly, for a six-figure sum people could get close enough for a selfie and a few words, although as Messi is from Spanish-speaking Argentina the communication may have been a bit disappointing for everyone concerned.
The high point of the whole exercise was a friendly match against a Hong Kong team assembled from the local performers. More than 30,000 spectators turned up for this, paying up to HK$4,880 for the privilege.
I was not one of them. Inoculated by five years as a professional watcher of football matches I am rarely tempted and “friendly” games in my experience usually disappoint. One of the reasons for this is that professional athletes are surprisingly fragile and reluctant to risk their livelihood in encounters which are merely entertainment. As a result, there is a tendency for people to drop out at the last minute if they get a twinge somewhere.
And so, alas, it turned out on this occasion. Inter Miami did their stuff, and saw off the Hong Kong team handily, but they did so without the assistance of Messi, who was down as a substitute but was not used.
Many of the spectators were extremely offended, and a speech at the end of the match from David Beckham, who used to be a footballer but nowadays is famous for being famous, was booed.
Cue outrage on all channels that fans bad been scammed. The internet frothed with bitter complaints. Some irate fans resorted to the Consumer Council. Column inches were devoted to Messi’s medical symptoms and history. Academics were interviewed. Chinese-state media suggested that it was a result of “external forces” seeking to embarrass the city.
After the organising magazine announced that – given the circumstances – it would not collect the government subsidy, our leaders could wade in. Secure, for a change, from charges that they had misplanned an event or wasted taxpayers’ money, they were free to express warm solidarity with disgruntled fans and call for money to be returned to them.
Which is all very well, and has provided a great deal of harmless media fodder. It has also, rather regrettably, consumed a large chunk of the rather small period allowed for people to comment on the upcoming national security legislation.
This is a pity. I was surprised by a recent offering in China Daily’s English version from Lau Siu-kai. Lau is an emeritus professor of sociology – a polite academic way of saying retired – and a consultant to the Chinese Association of Hong Kong and Macau Studies, a think tank where democratic ideas are drowned.
Those of us who were here at the time will remember as the high point of Lau’s career his prediction in 2003 that the July 1 march against the government’s first attempt to pass such legislation would only attract 30,000 or so people – a forecast which turned out to be about 500,000 people light.
However, if you want to know what the government is plotting then Lau is your man, so I waded through his thoughts on “colour revolutions.” This involved a very elaborate string of definitions, understandable in a way because Lau could hardly be expected to use the common-sense definition, which would be something like “a popular movement aiming at the overthrow of a despotic regime.” For Lau a colour revolution is a Bad Thing.
He then proceeded to explain how the national security law would prevent colour revolutions in Hong Kong. Which included some interesting observations. For example:
It will no longer be possible for political groups to freely participate in the leadership, planning, organization and mobilization of a “color revolution”. The Ordinance will stipulate: “If the Secretary for Security reasonably believes that prohibiting the operation or continued operation of any local organization in the HKSAR is necessary for safeguarding national security, the Secretary for Security may by order published in the Gazette prohibit the operation or continued operation of the organization in the HKSAR,” and “If a local organization is a political body and has a connection with an external political organization, the Security for Security may by order published in the Gazette prohibit the operation or continued operation of the local organization in the HKSAR.
This seems a little stark. No obligation to tell society first, or give it a chance to explain itself; no avenue for appeal? It also seems a bit unnecessary. In 2018 the police withdrew registration as a society from the Hong Kong National Party on national security grounds. We are plugging a non-existent loophole.
Then there is this:
It will be difficult for hostile forces to spread false information to slander the central government and the HKSAR government, to instigate hatred, division and opposition in society, and to instigate, lead and organize unrest. That is because they would be committing the offense of espionage under the Ordinance, which includes “colluding with an external force to publish a statement of fact that is false or misleading to the public, and the person, with intent to endanger national security or being reckless as to whether national security would be endangered, so publishes the statement; and knows that the statement is false or misleading.
I quite see why one might wish to have a law against false statements, although this seems to be covered by the sedition offence which we already have. But, at least in English, I do not see how this can be classed as espionage. This is a concern because espionage is generally treated as a very serious matter, whereas publishing a statement might in some circumstances be a fairly minor offence, if for example the publication was seen by very few people.
It used to be said that the British army was always preparing to fight the last war, not the next one. Something rather similar seems to be afflicting our government. The Hong Kong Journalists Association is “not recognised” because of two disagreements in 2019, a play is cancelled because the founder of the drama group tweeted something in 2019, a legislator making reasonable points about tourism and police work is accused of speaking “dangerously” and sounding like some of the things that were said in… 2019.
Now we have national security legislation which appears to be an attempt to criminalise anything and everything people did in 2019 which didn’t please the government. The fear of an encore is unwarranted. The people who wanted the five demands have got the message. They are either going or gone. Relax.
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