It almost looks like democracy
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In English and Chinese media in Hong Kong, reports on the election of the city's leader are laden with horse-racing terms.
A headline in the South China Morning Post reads, “Beijing gets its two-horse race as Tsang backs out.” Getting the required 100 nominations from the Election Committee to run for chief executive is described as “getting into the starting gate”.
Horse-racing is a common analogy in politics. Politicians “jockey” for power. But the comparison is befitting as the candidates have to win not the support of the public but the backing of the pro-Beijing Election Committee, making them less leaders of the people than racers attempting to win the hearts of sponsors. It is not a democratic election but a power struggle.
Beijing’s creation of the pseudo-election, in which the Hong Kong leader is chosen not by the people but by the 800-member committee, is a way to provide the appearance of democracy and to crown Beijing’s favourite as smoothly as possible. The two chief executives, Tung Chee-hwa and the incumbent Donald Tsang, are apparent Beijing favourites and won their elections without too much fuss.
Beijing’s design, however, turned out to be a bane for the communist government after presumed Beijing pick Henry Tang revealed his extramarital affair his 2,400-square-foot illegal “underground palace”, which he claimed was built by his wife behind his back. On the other hand, the Hong Kong government, viewed by the media as a supporter of Tang, released material implying an undeclared conflict of interest by Tang’s rival, CY Leung.
All of a sudden, the race is showing all the negative aspects of genuine democratic elections: scandals, mud-slinging, leaking of “black material” on candidates, and political farce, all of which are what Beijing wants to avoid in its pursuit of stability in the power turnover.
The negative campaigns and uncertainties will not go unnoticed by investors and will damage Hong Kong’s image as a stable society in the long run. It is also painful to the people who witness all these negativities without the good that comes with elections: the ability to vote. The people feel helpless and are increasingly angry as they watch the ugly jockeying for position at the starting gate for an election in which they have no say.
To give an example, Legislative Council President Tsang Yok-sing, the Tsang in the South China Morning Post headline, and a strong candidate for Beijing’s support after Tang’s scandals broke out, gave a textbook case of realpolitik in a speech explaining his decision not to run. He blatantly talked about attacks on himafter he announced plans to consider a bid. Furthermore, he did not rule out the possibility of joining the rerun if the March 25 poll fails to elect the chief executive, making clear that the Hong Kong election is all about political strategies, not the people without votes.
As Taiwan has shown, democratic elections can be ugly, negative and divisive. Yet Taiwan’s history also shows that true democracy is a learning process in which the people learn to make choices from the consequences of their picks. A true democracy has the capacity to mature as voters learn from mistakes (learn to distrust flattery from politicians) and candidates learn to better attract maturing voters (by upgrading their flatteries or hopefully by actually doing good). Most importantly, true democracy is a symbol of hope: no matter how poorly voters view those they have elected, they always have the chance to vote again. Ironic as it might be, Hong Kong’s pseudo-election holds a mirror to the merits of Taiwan’s democracy.
