WHEN CHINA foisted its suffocating national-security law on Hong Kong on July 1st 2020—the 23rd anniversary of its handover from Britain—one gleeful official called it a “birthday present”. Days after this year’s anniversary came another surprise. On July 3rd Hong Kong police offered a reward of HK$1m ($128,000) for information leading to the arrest of any of eight pro-democracy activists and former lawmakers who have fled to the West.
The eight are accused of various offences under the security law, including inciting secession and colluding with foreign powers. They are now thought to be living in America, Australia and Britain. At least one, Nathan Law in Britain (pictured), has been granted asylum. Another, Kevin Yam, is an Australian citizen.
Most have proved pesky critics of the government while they have been in exile. Steve Li, the police superintendent who unveiled the bounty scheme, noted that some had called for sanctions on Hong Kong. Such campaigning may be perfectly legal in the countries the activists now call home, but one of the many controversial aspects of the national-security law is its extraterritoriality. Hong Kong claims the right to prosecute not only those who are charged within its own territory, but also anybody—of any nationality—it deems to have broken the security law in any country.
Those with a bounty on their head may not feel in particularly fresh peril. Mr Yam says, “I will live my life as I always do.” Anna Kwok, who runs a non-profit in America called the Hong Kong Democracy Council, told The Economist that she and her fellow exiles already avoid places that have extradition treaties with Hong Kong or China. After hearing that her name was on the list, Ms Kwok reiterated her demand that John Lee, Hong Kong’s chief executive, be barred from attending the summit of Asia-Pacific Economic Co-operation, or APEC, to be held in San Francisco in November.
The activists’ adopted countries are unlikely to forsake them. The three governments condemned Hong Kong’s move and expressed their commitment to free speech. Even Mr Li seemed unconvinced about the prospects of his scheme: “If they don’t return, we won’t be able to arrest them, that’s a fact,” he said at a press conference, though he insisted the offer of a reward might prove useful if they ever try to sneak back in to Hong Kong. Mr Lee appealed, rather desperately, for the absconders to “hand themselves in as soon as possible”.
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The furore comes at a time when Hong Kong is trying to rehabilitate its global image. After a brutal 2022, when harsh covid restrictions contributed to a recession and prompted an exodus of residents, the government is trying to woo back tourists and businesses. In April it launched a campaign called “Happy Hong Kong”. Given that effort, and the likely ineffectiveness of the bounties, many observers are wondering why the government is targeting the activists in such a way.
It’s performative “moustache twirling”, says Alvin Cheung of Queen’s University Faculty of Law in Canada. Hong Kong’s government has become increasingly exasperated with Western carping about the national-security law, under which 260 people (including opposition politicians and journalists) have been arrested and newspapers closed. It lashed out at members of the European Parliament who recently called for sanctions on Hong Kong officials. The government saves particular scorn for Britain, which has accepted nearly 150,000 visa applications from Hong Kongers under a special scheme since the security law was introduced.
The bounties, then, may be seen as a peacockish riposte to the West. They also serve to highlight the nature of Hong Kong’s “dual state”, says Mr Cheung. On one level the bureaucracy and judiciary abide by a legal system that is well codified and equitably administered. But, he says, there is now a second, overarching “prerogative state” that operates with few legal restraints. That is handy for keeping troublemakers in check. For international types who once favoured Hong Kong for its stability and rule of law, it is a worry. ■
The Economist
