Tracing rise and fall of Hong Kong's Democratic Party, now facing oblivion

After the imposition of a wide-ranging national security law in Hong Kong in 2020, the Democratic Party effectively became the only sizeable opposition party left on the scene and its announcement last week of an impending closure has reignited debate on the city's politics.

In reality though, the party has been a pale shadow of its former self for several years now, riding on a reputation built in the past and reeling from the effects of a drastically changed political environment. Still, the psychological impact of its demise would be grave, observers said.

It has not been in the Legislative Council since 2021, snubbing the election that year as it found it humiliating to seek the endorsement of former opponents in the pro-establishment camp. The changed election rules require all candidates to get at least 10 nominations from the election committee — controlled by the patriotic camp — before they can run and even then they will need to be vetted by another committee.

As it stood on the sidelines of a political landscape in which only patriots can be lawmakers, the party has struggled to find its footing and relevance.

While the party will take some time to get the backing of its 400 members to cease operations, for many observers the end was an inevitable outcome given the decimated ranks of the opposition and political climate that is unconducive to vibrant debate.

The party has also not been able to raise funds as residents and business groups make a wide berth for fear of breaking the national security law, a fear it has been unable to shake off, members admit privately. Lacking the financial wherewithal has stymied its outreach.

The European Union was among those that spoke out after the news broke, warning of a narrowing space for civil society, after the city's patriots said the planned dissolution was "self-inflicted" and argued the opposition group played a major role in the 2019 protests.

The story of the Democratic Party in many ways mirrored the difficulties of maintaining a nuanced stance — of being a vocal opposition but also staying loyal to the country — a notion endorsed by its founders in its early years but not always articulated by younger members in recent decades.

Officially set up in 1994, the party aspired to press ahead with Hong Kong's democratic development and call for universal suffrage amid uncertainty brought by the handover in 1997.

It came about as a merger of two opposition groups — the United Democrats of Hong Kong chaired by Martin Lee Chu-ming, who is also named Hong Kong's "father of democracy," and the Meeting Point founded by late veteran pro-Beijing politician Lau Nai-keung.

Members then included the late Szeto Wah, one of Beijing's most trusted dissenting voices invited to sit on an exclusive committee to draft Hong Kong's mini-constitution in the mid-1980s.

"I am both a staunch democrat and a patriot," Szeto, often called "Uncle Wah," wrote in an article in 2004, capturing the essence of what the party ought to stand for.

In the 1995 Legco election, it secured a landslide victory by winning 19 seats. Becoming the biggest party in the 60-strong Legco back then, it held 13 seats in the 1998 and 2000 polls, beating close rival the Democratic Alliance for the Betterment and Progress of Hong Kong (DAB).

Even after the pro-establishment DAB overtook the Democratic Party in 2004, it retained its position as the leading pan-democratic grouping in Legco, winning eight seats in the 2008 election. That year, the party merged with The Frontier, led by Emily Lau Wai-hing.

But as the city's opposition scene grew, so did the infighting. Radical tendencies meant the Democratic Party came under pressure to move in a similar direction. The League of Social Democrats, for example, whose leaders, such as "Long Hair" Leung Kwok-hung, were known for their radical stance.

In 2010, the Democratic Party also came under severe attack after it engaged in closed-door negotiations with Beijing officials and struck a deal on the path for political reform in Hong Kong. Under the deal, five new seats became eligible for direct voting after being nominated by district councillors.

Its allies slammed it as a betrayal while party loyalists saw it as the only way to strengthen democracy. Earlier that year, it already did not go along with the resignations of five other opposition lawmakers, to trigger a de facto referendum in the form of by-elections. This sowed the seeds of disunity within the camp.

By the mid-2010s, the political ground had moved and the localists who were central to the 2014 Occupy protests to fight for universal suffrage were in the driver's seat.

Formed by a group of young people, from teenagers to those in their early thirties, they took a more radical approach, emphasising greater self-determination, including in some cases independence.

The Democratic Party found itself caught in this radicalising maelstrom and often came under fire for being too mild and moderate.

But during the 2019 protests triggered by a now-withdrawn extradition bill, it found a second wind, pushing itself forward and joining hands with other opposition lawmakers to thwart the legislation.

Riding from the momentum of the anti-government protests, it won 91 seats in the 2019 district council election, making it the largest party on that front once again.

In 2020, after Beijing's move to disqualify four opposition members, all seven lawmakers from the party quit the legislature together with other pan-democrats in protest.

The party had also taken part in the unauthorised primary in 2020 to decide on the best candidates for the opposition to run in the Legco election. Four of its former lawmakers — Wu Chi-wai, Helena Wong Pik-wan, Lam Cheuk-ting and Andrew Wan Siu-kin — were among the 47 opposition activists later charged and locked up in 2021 for their involvement in the primary that was deemed a plot to overthrow the government.

Last year, they were sentenced for up to six years and nine months after being convicted of conspiracy to commit subversion under the national security law.

The party attempted to send a handful of members to contest the district council election in 2023, but none secured sufficient nominations from members of the three patriot-led municipal-level committees.

In recent years, the Democrats failed to even hold their annual fundraising banquets, as they were unable to find a venue and, worse, enough donors.

With essentially no income, the party further cut staff numbers recently to having only one assistant. Chairman Lo Kin-hei said the real challenge the party faced was not financial constraints or the government's indifference but whether residents still found it relevant or agreed with its values.

"We just want to maintain a voice representing Hongkongers in society, especially when everyone believes rational discussions no longer exist," Lo said in an interview last year. "We just want to offer a form of presence in Hong Kong."

Last Thursday, Lo apologised for the "sudden" decision to disband the party but he stopped short of giving the reason and the time frame.

"Developing democracy in Hong Kong is always difficult, and it has been especially difficult in the past few years," he said.

The party's final fate is now in the hands of its 400 members, who are expected to vote on the dissolution motion in the coming months.

"Dissolution is the only way out for the party," said Lau Siu-kai, a consultant for Beijing's semi-official think tank, citing the party's inability to be part of the city's governance through running in elections, amid the central government's continuing distrust.

Political commentator Johnny Lau Yui-siu rued the shrinking ranks of diverse political voices, saying the government also benefited from knowing true sentiments on the ground as divisions had not healed. "It is for the government's benefit to take a holistic view when making policies," he said.

Read the full story at SCMP.