AI-generated from sources
The criminalization of memory: National security and the erasure of Hong Kong’s past
In Brief
- Hong Kong's National Security Law (NSL) has weaponized historical remembrance, prosecuting acts like the Tiananmen vigil commemoration as "inciting subversion."
- The NSL facilitates a state-led project of "historical erasure," dismantling civil society organizations and censoring cultural production to enforce a singular, state-sanctioned narrative.
- This campaign reveals the state's anxiety that unmanaged collective memory, especially of past grievances, remains a potent source of political opposition.
- In the face of official suppression, the private and community act of remembering shifts from a civic duty to a fundamental form of moral and political resistance.
Main authors
In Hong Kong, the act of public remembrance has been systematically reframed as an act of subversion, transforming historical memory into a contested political space. The prosecution of veteran pro-democracy activists for organizing or participating in vigils commemorating the 1989 Tiananmen Square massacre exemplifies a fundamental conflict between state power and civil society [1, 2]. On one side, a governing authority seeks to enforce a form of historical amnesia, viewing unauthorized collective memory as a direct threat to national security and political stability [3, 4]. On the other, citizens and activists assert the right to public mourning and historical continuity, viewing such commemorative acts as essential to their identity and civic duty [5].
This clash is not merely ideological; it is being adjudicated through a powerful legal instrument, the Law of the PRC on Safeguarding National Security in the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region (NSL) [6]. Implemented in 2020, this law provides the authorities with a broad mandate to suppress activities deemed secessionist, subversive, or collaborationist, effectively criminalizing many forms of nonviolent political expression that were once protected [7]. Consequently, the annual Tiananmen vigil, once a symbol of Hong Kong's unique freedoms, has become a focal point for the state's security apparatus .
The situation raises profound questions about the relationship between history, memory, and state power. When a government defines national security so broadly as to include the control of historical narratives, what becomes of the past? This conflict demonstrates how memory ceases to be a passive inheritance and is instead forged into an active political tool [8]. The state's effort to abolish certain traces of the past is met by the insistence that a nation's heritage, including its most painful episodes, cannot be selectively erased without causing deep and lasting grievance [9, 10]. The struggle over the memory of Tiananmen in Hong Kong is therefore a struggle over the very soul of the city and its future.
The legal architecture of forgetting
The National Security Law serves as the primary legal and political tool for dismantling the public infrastructure of memory in Hong Kong . Its provisions have been used to prosecute dozens of individuals for their roles in commemorations of the Tiananmen Square massacre and other pro-democracy protests, often under the charge of 'unauthorized assembly' . These legal actions target not only organizers but also participants, creating a powerful deterrent against any public gathering not sanctioned by the state. The central government of China maintains that such legislation is a sovereign right and its own ultimate responsibility, a view consistent with international practices where national security is a central power [11]. This perspective frames local commemorative traditions that diverge from the official narrative as challenges to national unity and stability, which the state is mandated to prevent [12].
The NSL's impact extends far beyond the prosecution of specific individuals. It has created a pervasive chilling effect that has reshaped civic life [13]. The law grants police broad authority to conduct surveillance, seize travel documents, and demand the removal of online information without warrants in national security cases [14, 15]. This expansion of state power has led to the preemptive dissolution of numerous civil society organizations, labor unions, and political parties who were the custodians of collective memory and organizers of public events . Faced with the threat of arrests, asset freezes, and lengthy detentions without trial, many groups have disbanded, leaving a vacuum in the public sphere that was once filled with vibrant, and often critical, civic discourse [16, 17].
The state's legal strategy is predicated on a specific interpretation of security. From this viewpoint, ensuring a 'peaceful and stable' society requires the elimination of perceived threats, including ideologies deemed subversive . The Chinese government asserts that a strong military and unified national identity are essential for a country that has not yet been completely reunified and faces a complex security environment [18, 19]. In this context, pro-democracy movements and the public remembrance of events like Tiananmen are portrayed not as legitimate expressions of political opinion, but as activities that undermine national unity and are potentially instigated by foreign interference [20]. The legal framework of the NSL, therefore, is presented as a necessary measure to protect national sovereignty against both internal and external threats .
Erasing the traces from public space to private thought
The consequences of this state-led project of historical erasure are tangible in the public spaces of Hong Kong. For years, the annual June 4th vigil in Victoria Park was a massive, peaceful gathering. By 2022, however, no organization formally applied to hold any public commemoration of the event . The police presence on that day, and the arrests of individuals who attempted to mark the anniversary in even small, personal ways, signaled a zero-tolerance policy towards unauthorized remembrance . This disappearance of public memorials is not a sign of collective forgetting, but rather a testament to the effectiveness of the state's deterrent measures . The goal appears to be the complete removal of any physical manifestation of a contested past, an attempt to make it seem as though it never existed in the city's public life [21].
This campaign of erasure extends beyond public squares into the cultural and intellectual life of the city. Book fairs have reportedly self-censored, with publications discussing the 2019 pro-democracy protests or the Tiananmen massacre notably absent [22]. Hong Kong law now allows authorities to revoke a film's license if it is deemed 'contrary to national security interests,' with severe penalties for showing unlicensed material . This control over cultural production aims to cut off the channels through which collective memory is sustained and transmitted to younger generations. By controlling the stories, images, and texts available to the public, the state seeks to curate a singular, approved historical narrative, free from the complexities and critiques that alternative memories might introduce [23].
The underlying principle of this strategy is the recognition that memorials, whether physical or cultural, do more than just recall past events; they actively shape present and future identities [24, 25]. The Chinese government's focus on building a strong nation with a unified sense of purpose requires a history that supports this vision . Dissenting memories, especially those of state violence against its own citizens, introduce a narrative of conflict and injustice that directly contradicts the official story of national harmony and strength . The suppression of these memories is therefore a preemptive strike against the formation of a collective identity rooted in a past that the state cannot control. The objective is to ensure that all historical traces align with the state's political project [26].
Memory as an act of resistance
In an environment of state-enforced amnesia, the very act of remembering becomes a powerful form of political resistance. When official channels for commemoration are closed, memory is forced inward, but it does not necessarily disappear [27]. Instead, it can become a source of profound opposition, a mental and emotional record that resists erasure . The state's aggressive campaign to suppress the memory of Tiananmen paradoxically highlights its enduring power. The intense legal and police measures deployed against vigils and memorials betray an anxiety that these memories, if left unchecked, could revive and disrupt the present political order . This dynamic confirms that the past is not a 'dead history,' but a living force capable of challenging authority and shaping contemporary consciousness .
The insistence on remembering is therefore not merely about historical accuracy; it is a moral and political stance. It asserts that a nation's heritage includes its traumas and injustices, and that removing these parts of the historical record is a profound violation . This view holds that a duty exists to remember past sufferings and great actions, not to foster enmity, but to pay a just tribute and maintain a complete sense of national identity . The conflict in Hong Kong is thus a struggle over which version of the past will define the future. While the state strives to build a future on a sanitized and selective history, activists and citizens contend that a just future can only be built on a foundation of truth, which requires confronting even the most painful memories of the past .
This struggle is further complicated by its international dimension. The Chinese government frequently portrays foreign criticism of its policies in Hong Kong, including support for pro-democracy activists, as illegitimate interference in its internal affairs . This narrative serves to delegitimize local activism by linking it to hostile external forces, thereby justifying its suppression under the NSL's prohibition on 'collusion with a foreign country' . For those who seek to preserve the memory of events like Tiananmen, this means they are not only fighting against state-enforced forgetting at home but are also navigating a geopolitical landscape that frames their actions as a threat to national sovereignty. The crime of remembrance is thus compounded by the accusation of disloyalty.
The criminalization of remembrance in Hong Kong illustrates a profound shift in the city's political and legal landscape. Through the systematic application of the National Security Law, the authorities have effectively dismantled the public infrastructure of collective memory that once defined Hong Kong's unique civil society . This is not simply a matter of suppressing dissent, but a deliberate and strategic project of historical erasure aimed at consolidating political control and enforcing a singular, state-sanctioned narrative . By framing unauthorized commemoration as a threat to national security, the state has transformed the act of remembering into a subversive and punishable offense.
Yet, the intensity of this suppression reveals the inherent fragility of enforced forgetting. While statues can be removed, books banned, and vigils outlawed, the memories they represent persist in the consciousness of individuals and communities [28]. The state's actions demonstrate a clear understanding that a historical grievance, if left to fester, can become a potent source of opposition for generations . The struggle over the memory of Tiananmen in Hong Kong is therefore far from over. It has simply moved from the public square to a less visible, but no less significant, terrain: the realm of private conscience and unwritten history. In this contested space, memory itself has become the ultimate frontier of resistance.
