Benedict Rogers: Let’s agree to disagree agreeably for advancing fight for freedom

If there’s one lesson I have learned from over a quarter of a century of human rights activism, it’s that movements that are united are more likely to succeed than those that aren’t.

Of all the struggles that I’ve had the privilege of supporting, two have succeeded in their objectives: the struggle for self-determination, freedom and independence for East Timor, and the fight for democracy in the Maldives. Those that so far have not made progress – Myanmar, North Korea, China and, yes, Hong Kong – suffer from a deficit of unity.

But let me be clear what I mean by unity. It does not mean uniformity. It does not mean an absence of diversity – of ideas, ideologies or strategies. It does not mean a prohibition on difference or disagreement.

It means instead a unity of spirit and purpose, a recognition that the objective is so important, the enemy so significant and the consequences of failure so grave that there’s a need – at least in public – to pull together, to co-ordinate diverse strategies, to draw on a variety of ideas and to put personal ambitions, egos and agendas aside in the interests of the common good.

It means, to borrow from the Chinese Communist Party (CCP)'s playbook, to build a “United Front”.

When I lived in Hong Kong, the very first human rights struggle I really took up in earnest was the fight for freedom for East Timor. My involvement began by coming to know East Timorese refugees in exile in Macau; it grew to leading demonstrations through the streets of Wanchai and Admiralty for East Timor, and speaking at a press conference at the Foreign Correspondents Club; and it culminated in many visits to East Timor in the aftermath of the 1999 referendum, the massacres that ensued and the transition towards independence.

I learned quickly that although East Timor’s freedom movement was as diverse as any other – with differences over ideology, strategy and tactics – it had brought its different factions together. The movement was led by the National Council of Timorese Resistance – known by its Portuguese acronym CNRT – and broadly speaking the movement had three internationally renowned and respected leaders representing three complementary wings: Xanana Gusmao, who led the armed resistance and became the moral and political leader within the country, the ‘Nelson Mandela’ of East Timor, ending up in jail in Jakarta; Bishop Carlos Belo, who led the spiritual wing; and Jose Ramos-Horta, who went into exile when the Indonesian army invaded in 1975 and led the worldwide diplomatic effort to champion his cause. Bishop Belo and Ramos-Horta won the Nobel Peace Prize jointly in 1996.

That unity of purpose, and having those clearly visible three leaders, gave the world clarity and the movement courage and led to the birth of Timor-Leste as a newly independent nation in 2002. Few Timorese would pretend there weren’t divisions and differences among the movement – but their success came from their ability to manage those differences, and build a coherent and united global campaign, which had legitimacy among the repressed and suffering population at home and credibility with policy-makers abroad.

The Maldives is another example – a country that has twice transitioned between dictatorship and democracy. I first visited the Maldives in 2006 when I met the then opposition pro-democracy leader Mohamed Nasheed while he was under house arrest, and the then foreign minister Ahmed Shaheed who was leading a reform process. Following my visit I published a report, arguing that if the reformists within the regime were serious about change, the first thing they must do is release Nasheed. A day or two after my report came out, the foreign minister called me and said the regime agreed, and the President was signing Nasheed’s release papers later that day. But, he added, could I encourage Nasheed to engage in dialogue? Moments later Nasheed called me, saying he agreed with my report too, and asking me to convey to the government that he was willing to dialogue if he was released. I relayed the messages, he was released, a transition took place and Nasheed was directly elected President in 2008.

Unfortunately, not every transition to democracy is smooth and four years after being elected President, Nasheed – also once described as the Maldives' “Mandela” – was overthrown in a coup by remnants of the old regime, and found himself back in jail. I campaigned for him once again, he was eventually released into exile, but he then set to work uniting a coalition of opponents of the regime – bringing together some strange bedfellows, including some with ties to the previous dictatorship – which, against all odds, succeeded in restoring democracy in 2018.

Myanmar, in contrast, is an example of a movement that had potential but has now fractured. A movement that was always diverse – especially along ethnic lines – but which once had a clear uniting figurehead – Aung San Suu Kyi – whom both Burman democrats and ethnic groups trusted, to varying degrees. In recent years, however, that trust has dissipated, especially among ethnic groups, and Myanmar’s progress as a democracy is hindered as much by the Burman nationalist-dominated pro-democracy party as it is by the military’s continuing repression – and grave human rights violations – against the country’s ethnic resistance movements. If only Burman democrats, ethnic groups and people of all religious backgrounds who wish to counter religious intolerance would unite cohesively to counter the forces of dictatorship, repression and ethno-religious hatred and conflict, Myanmar could progress. But, even as it approaches elections next month, this benighted conflict-ridden beautiful land remains in repressive stasis.

Last week I hosted in my home in London one of the most beautiful, inspiring, moving evenings I have had the privilege to experience: a dinner for rebels.

Around my dinner table, I had a Uyghur, a Myanmar Muslim, a North Korean and two Hongkongers. Strictly within the “rule of six”, which is the limit for inter-household gatherings imposed by the British government currently due to the COVID-19 pandemic, we shared experiences and ideas. And we recognized that across our countries, struggles and movements – Myanmar, North Korea, Xinjiang and Hong Kong – we faced a common enemy and a common challenge: the CCP.

All I did was to initiate the dinner party, invite the guests, cook the food and serve the drinks – my guests did the rest. But what they did was build a microcosm of a tiny flicker of the beginnings of a movement that is multinational, ethnically, religiously and ideologically diverse, and that seeks only one thing: freedom.

There are other sources of oppression besides the CCP – ethno-religious nationalism, religious extremism, militarism, other dictatorships – but most of us are realizing that unless we can unite, within our movements and across our movements, to defeat dictatorships wherever they are, and to challenge the big dictatorship of the CCP that now transcends so many borders, we will fail.

But if we can unite – starting around the dinner table, moving towards a commonality of purpose – we have a chance.

What are the lessons of these reflections for Hong Kong?

As someone who lived in Hong Kong, has been denied entry to Hong Kong and now fights every day for Hong Kong, the cry from the very depths of my heart to every single Hongkonger who believes in freedom is this: unite.

That doesn’t mean you have to agree on every detail. But at this time, as the CCP is decimating your freedoms, now isn’t the time to fight each other. Now is the time to fight the CCP together.

That means young and old coming together and showing respect for each other. Appreciation for the wisdom that comes from the age and experience of Martin Lee, Emily Lau and Jimmy Lai, and at the same time appreciation for the courage, daring and new thinking that comes from the young people – not only Joshua Wong, Nathan Law and Agnes Chau but those who took to the streets in protest day after day last year and, today, teenagers who sit on MTR platforms reading the Apple Daily.

It means pan-democrat and localist uniting.

It means agreeing that whether or not the goal is democracy or independence, autonomy or self-determination, these are secondary considerations upon which you can agree to disagree agreeably – because there’s a far far bigger cause at stake. The very survival of freedom itself.

It means, to be honest, that since the National Security Law came into force it really doesn’t matter whether you’re a pan-democrat or a localist. If you’re for freedom, you face a common danger, and so why not band together?

My Hong Kong brothers and sisters, it’s not for me to tell you what you should or should not do. Your future is in your hands. But as a friend who wishes you well and fights for you daily, it would definitely enhance the chances of the international community being persuaded to take further action if you speak with one voice, put aside factional differences, try to resolve disagreements in private, and at the very least create your own ‘United Front’ – not one that suffocates debate or ignores differences, but one that coordinates diversity. That way, there’s a chance of advancing the fight for freedom.

Benedict Rogers is co-founder and Chief Executive of Hong Kong Watch. This article was published in Apple Daily on 16 October 2020. (Photo: Apple Daily)