Dear,

In my letter, I drew a very childish flower as a greeting. In your letter, you drew five. Not a bad deal! Imagine that Pablo Picasso had been trapped by the walls and he had painted a small picture in every letter. Wouldn’t those receiving his letter become billionaires over time? Wouldn’t those letters make a priceless collection of art?

Did you know that, when the 47 people in the case of the democratic primaries were arraigned last week, there were some new arrangements? Previously, the defendants remanded in custody would be taken to court, and the court police would shout “Court!” Everyone would stay silent, and the judge would appear. The family, friends and supporters of a defendant sitting in the public gallery would use the small window of opportunity, i.e., the short period of time before the judge’s appearance, to greet the defendant in the prisoner column loudly and encourage each other. But it was different last week. First, the court police shouted “Court!” Then the silence. The judge appeared in court, sat down, and then the defendants were taken into court amid a solemn atmosphere. There were no chances for any casual exchanges.

All of a sudden, the trial of Nelson Mandela in a South African court sprang to mind. It just so happened that I had begun rereading The Rivonia Story, written by Joel Joffe, just a few days previously. According to Joffe, the Pretoria High Court had the prison cell located underground, which was led by a steep stairway to an exit that opened at the center of the court. The prisoner’s bar was behind the lawyer’s bench and in front of the public gallery. On the day of the trial of Mandela and others, the public gallery was full. A large number of police had already been deployed, heavily guarding the court building to prevent the long queues of people from entering it. In the court, there was also a huge police presence on standby. When the trial was about to begin, Mandela was the first to appear from the underground stairs. A stir of excitement swept through the public gallery when Mandela’s head and shoulders emerged. He turned to face the public and made an ANC gesture: his right fist clenched and his thumb up. With his sonorous voice, he shouted subduedly, “Amandla (power)!” The crowd immediately responded “Nga wethu (to the people)!”

That impromptu demonstration caught the court police off their guard. They did not know how to react. The defendants appeared in court one by one, each repeating the slogan and the interaction with the crowd. The court police hastily shouted: “Observe court order!” At last, the judge appeared in court amidst the clamor.

In the next court session, a new, unusual arrangement was adopted. The court was opened first, with the judge in the seat and everyone in silence. Only after that were the defendants led to court one by one to avoid a repeat of the embarrassment last time.

So, when I saw the new arrangement for Court 1 at the West Kowloon Law Courts Building, I could not help but think of the trial in South Africa. There are two other similarities. First, to deal with intensifying ANC operations, the South African government passed an amendment to give the police the power to detain anyone suspected of violent actions for 90 days without trial. After 90 days, they could reset the timer, imprisoning the same person for another 90 days on the pretext of another charge. In Hong Kong, the National Security Law adds another procedure to this practice: the person must be taken to court first. In reality, however, there is no hope of bail unless the prosecution agrees, so the outcome is not very different from that in South Africa back then. Second, as soon as one has one’s charge cleared by the court, one faces a new charge that comes out of nowhere. Before one regains one’s freedom, one has to be taken into custody again.

To be honest, I really do not understand how the court can “have no sufficient reasons” to believe that the defendants will not “continue to endanger the country”. The prosecution’s justification is that the defendants are still very capable of doing the things that the prosecution argues have “endangered the country”, though ordinary people (including the defendants) used to think that they were completely legal. An example is presenting opinions to the international media that the prosecution claims to be “fake news”. But there is an important difference now. In the past, not even in their dreams would they have thought that their actions would “endanger the country”. Now that they have realized that such actions would mean imprisonment, that is exactly the best reason to believe that they will not engage in such actions again. It strains credulity to believe that the defendants will keep doing those things despite the threat of imprisonment. #May Lady Justice open her eyes. Wish you a safe return soon!

2.6.2021

(Margaret Ng Ngoi-yee is a barrister, writer and columnist in Hong Kong. She was a member of the Legislative Council of Hong Kong from 1995-1997; 1998-2012.)

This article is translated from Chinese by Apple Daily.

Click here for Chinese version

---------------------------------

Apple Daily’s all-new English Edition is now available on the mobile app: bit.ly/2yMMfQE

To download the latest version,

iOS: bit.ly/AD_iOS

Android: bit.ly/AD_android

Or search Appledaily in App Store or Google Play