(en) China, Media, The Main Hong Kong Protest Site Is a Perfect Anarchist Collective

Members of the Occupied movement rest in their tents on a highway blocked by protestors 
barricades in the Admiralty district of Hong Kong on October 16, 2014. ---- There are no 
leaders, but everything, from the supply tents to the recycling stations, runs just 
beautifully ---- TV Face-Off Dramatizes Gulf Between Hong Kong Protesters and Officials
The Hong Kong Protests Are Creating a More Ethnically Unified City ---- Until recently, 
this high school student had found a purpose helping Hong Kong?s demonstrators over the 
high median dividers cutting through their encampment in the city?s Admiralty district. 
---- Yet, as the occupation of Harcourt Road enters its fourth week, getting over the 
concrete walls has become easy: protesters handy with tools have made several sets of 
wooden stairs for them, complete with handrails.

?I have somehow become useless,? says Fong, 17, standing idly at one such set of steps on 
a recent evening. ?But it?s okay,? he said, shrugging his shoulders. ?Now I have more 
leisure time.?

Call Fong?s job a casualty of this protest?s maturation from an uncertain settlement to a 
bona fide village?a transformation that smacks of pure anarchism. Not anarchy, meaning 
chaos, but classical political anarchism: a self-organizing community that has no leader.

Protesters in Hong Kong share a common goal of getting Beijing to agree to free elections 
for the Hong Kong government?s top job in 2017 (at the moment, Beijing is insisting on 
screening candidates). But no one is fully in charge of these demonstrations, and 
protesters are split over how to get their demand answered. A lack of leadership is widely 
cited as one reason why the conflict has not come to a resolution.

Yet leaderlessness has not stopped Hong Kong demonstrators from achieving social consensus 
at their biggest protest site in skyscraper-hemmed Harcourt Road (or Umbrella Square, as 
the protesters now call it). These days, the six-lane thoroughfare turned tent community 
is a microcosm of the city that hosts it except for one detail: it does not have a chief 
executive, as Hong Kong?s leader is called.

?We don?t have a central command to do anything,? says Daris Wong, 30, a paralegal manning 
a Cantonese-English interpretation booth, the latest in his string of self-appointed 
protest gigs.

?It?s maybe the not so good thing about these protests,? he says, ?but it?s also the most 
beautiful thing.?

Over the past few days, Harcourt Road has acquired suburbs of camping tents. Most tents 
have numbers. Some are recognized addresses. A letter was recently delivered by the Hong 
Kong Post Office to tent 22, according to the Democratic Party?s Facebook page.

Protesters need not bring their own accommodation. Last Friday, Pat, a freelance graphic 
designer who declined to give her last name, opened registration at 8:30 p.m. for 67 tents 
donated to the supplies station she helps run. The assembled tents are called the Freedom 
Quarter, she said, handing a young couple waiting in line a list of rules: cleanliness is 
a must; checkout time is noon on Saturday.

Protesters bedding-in will find their stay clean, if not necessarily comfortable. 
Do-gooders ensure that public restrooms around the site are stocked with a mind-boggling 
assortment of toiletries, from face moisturizer to conditioning shampoo, many of them 
designer brands. Student volunteers mop out the facilities too, because the municipal 
cleaners can?t keep pace with the high numbers of people passing through the washrooms 
every day.

Roving trash collectors meanwhile bring waste to designated recycling areas, where the 
items are sorted and carted out to the city?s trash-collection stations.

?I saw that it wasn?t being done, and someone has to do it,? says Henry Ip, 23, a college 
student making one of his twice-daily rounds through the site with a plastic trash bag.

Meanwhile, supply tents ? there are several around Harcourt Road ? have become bursting 
emporiums of water, towels, face masks, Oreo cookies and McDonalds takeout.

?It?s messy because I just got here,? says Isaac Hung, 24, a law student who works an 
informal day shift at one such station, gesturing to a sprawl of snacks and medical 
supplies. ?Every shift, I fix it, and then I come back, and it?s all messy again.?

Hung?s supplies tent has two couches, mats that suffice as carpeting, and lighting 
fashioned from flashlights and saline solution bottles. A walkie-talkie on the floor 
crackles insistently. Supply stations use them to call on each other if one runs out of 
something

Conservation and consideration rule this camp. Wong, the paralegal, says he often tries to 
pass out lunchboxes to protesters, only to be turned down: ?They say, ?Save it for someone 
who needs it more,?? Wong says.

?So then I say, ?O.K., but if you don?t take it, I will give it to the police,?? he adds. 
?Then, they take it.? As he speaks, students sitting in a sprawling study zone that the 
protesters have outfitted with desks, lamps, and power outlets, politely decline a 
volunteer stooping to offer them tiny cakes.

Like any village, this one also has its resident oddballs. One taciturn protester, wearing 
a skull-print ski mask pulled up to his eyes, passes plastic cups of soup to passerby. 
Glass bottles of beer bob inside in his big blue cooler. His area, furnished with a vase 
of sunflowers, is just one photographic opportunity for visitors wandering the protest 
village.

Art abounds, much of it inspired by the umbrellas that became the symbol of the movement 
after protesters used them to shield themselves from police pepper spray. There?s a tall 
statue of a figure holding out an umbrella that?s become the subject of countless 
Instagrams. A short distance away are exhibitions of photography and ink drawings. 
Tourists love to gather for photos in front of a long staircase leading up to the Central 
Government Offices that has become plastered with thousands of brightly colored Post-It 
notes, each bearing a message of support for the protesters. It?s been christened the 
Lennon Wall.

Not that life is always colorful here. Prominent pro-democracy figures ? in fact anyone 
with something to say ? give frequent lectures to considerable crowds, but ?sometimes 
people get tired of public speeches,? says Ivy Chan, 40, a staffer for a Labor Party 
legislator and the organizer of nightly documentary screenings. She briefly interrupted a 
Friday night showing to let the sleepy-looking, supine crowd know she had found someone?s 
heart disease pills.

Meanwhile, a group of law students manning a tent for legal discussions were finding the 
hoped-for debates stymied by general agreement among those who stopped in. As Tilly Chow, 
19, put it, ?the people who are really against us aren?t here, and they don?t want to know 
what we have to say.? By midnight, the collective had drawn its tent door closed to 
discuss boiling a 60-something page legal analysis of the situation into something more 
concise.

Elsewhere, tents were faintly lit with the glow of Facebook?s smartphone app. A young man 
took a photo on his iPad of a young woman popping her head out of their newly erected tent 
and waited as she approved the pictures. Many people were already asleep, or at least trying.

Protesters, weathering criticism from conservative Hong Kongers and business owners tired 
of protests clogging major traffic arteries, have emphasized that this demonstration is 
not a jubilant sleepover. A sign posted in the main encampment reads: ?Not a Party, is a 
Protest.?

Indeed, as midnight neared, three young women paused at a quiet, unclaimed plot of 
pavement and began unspooling tarp from a bag, looking anything but party-ready.

?This is not fun,? says Tracy Leung, 28, who works for a retail chain, holding a corner of 
the rumpled canvas, which she hoped would eventually be a tent, but did not yet look like one.

?No one likes to sleep on the street,? added her colleague, Carol Lee, 26.

But they had a critical role to play in this village, the three friends said.

?I?m here as one more body,? said Leung. ?Because for every one less body here, it gets 
more dangerous for everyone else.?