A rift with Lithuania

She helped run a picturebook club for her sons and other children in the neighbourhood, and hundreds of such books filled several of her boxes. Some were by Hong Kong or Taiwanese authors, but most were Chinese translations of books from around the world. Her sons loved the Butt Detective and Sherlock Holmes series, but she also read them books about democracy. One favourite, popular among other parents in Hong Kong, was “The President of the Jungle”. In it, the animals are fed up with King Lion, who cares only about himself. So they hold an election and Snake, Sloth and Monkey decide to run against Lion. To keep the family’s memories of Hong Kong alive, Mrs Choi planned to start a Cantonese picturebook group in Britain.

Mrs Choi did not hate China, nor did she want her boys to do so. But, she said, “I don’t want them to grow up being forced at school to love the Communist Party.” And the indoctrination had started. New multiplechoice exam questions in primary school asked students “How do you feel about China?” The only options were positive. In a government video for primaryschool pupils, an animated owl wearing glasses and a graduation cap warned them about threats such as terrorism and hostile foreign powers.

A struggle is under way for the hearts and minds of Hong Kong’s children. The city’s chief secretary said in 2020, when he was its security secretary, that the government’s foremost target was education: “The main task is to cleanse it of ‘bad apples’ to save the students from being poisoned.” Teachers are leaving at around twice the normal rate. According to a survey by the largest teachers’ union in Hong Kong, over 40% of teachers said they wanted to quit the profession. Of those, 70% cited “increased political pressure” as the main reason. Many teachers know all too well how successfully China ramped up “patriotic education” in mainland schools after the Tiananmen Square protests in 1989.

Mrs Choi felt lucky. Her husband’s company had offered to transfer him to London, and they both had siblings who could look after their elderly parents in Hong Kong. The future is darker for many of their friends and other parents who have chosen to stay, whether because of family ties, the cost of moving, or their attachment to Hong Kong. Some hope the Chinese crackdown will not be that bad; others, more pessimistic, are still determined to raise their children with ideas the regime considers so dangerous they are punishable with life in prison. It is a risky choice. About 4,000 of the more than 10,000 people arrested since prodemocracy protests roiled the city in 2019 are highschool and university students. Authors of prodemocracy picture books have also been jailed, charged with printing seditious material.

illiberal arts Since the protests, Hong Kong’s largest teachers’ union has been forced to close, and the education bureau has overhauled the curriculum. Liberal studies, a compulsory highschool subject that encouraged students to think critically, including about China, has been abolished, replaced by a course emphasising China’s achievements. “In traditional Chinese culture, teachers are supposed to be role models,” says one liberalstudies teacher, Jason Wong. “How do I encourage my students to think critically while teaching them to obey authority and be loyal to the motherland?” “Now you are rewarded for perpetuating the lies of the Communist Party”

In the end, Mr Wong instructed his students to praise the government in their exams. “I think teachers and parents in Hong Kong are now struggling with the same question: how do we teach our children?” he says. “If I teach my students to be sincere, kind and honest—important qualities for being a good human being—then it is difficult to survive in this society. Now you are rewarded for perpetuating the lies of the Communist Party.” Mr Wong is applying for a licence to work as a taxi driver.

Hong Kong’s worldclass universities are under scrutiny, too. Ip IamChong, a professor of cultural studies, was denied tenure despite backing from his department, he believes because of his outspoken support of democracy. But he, his wife and their eightyearold daughter are staying put. They love Hong Kong and are attached to friends who share similar values. “My daughter can leave to study or live overseas when she is older,” he says.

He tells her stories, including about his friends and students who are in jail. His best friend is Eddie Chu, a former prodemocracy politician who has been charged with subversion for taking part in a primary election. He faces life in prison. “I tell her about what happened to Eddie, why the police have put him in jail, whether there is a reason and why people are migrating. I think it is enough to just tell her these stories. How she understands the situation isn’t something that we as parents can dictate.”

Other parents are more supportive of the government. During the protests in 2019, Catherine Lau bought her son a set of Hong Kong policeforce toys from Taobao, a Chinese ecommerce site: police dogs, officers firing teargas and police officers holding up signs warning against illegal assembly. But Ms Lau cancelled all play dates, concerned about what conversations the toys might provoke: “I wouldn’t have known what to say to the other mum. We don’t talk about politics; it is too sensitive.”

Ada Mak, who runs a nursery in southern Hong Kong, is on a mission to instil a love of the motherland in her pupils. On the eve of important holidays in China, the nursery transforms into the stage of a flagraising ceremony. A few chosen students don white gloves tailored to their tiny hands. They march behind a boy who holds a small flag in his outstretched arms. The students stand to attention. The flag is unfurled and raised on a little pole. Loudspeakers blast the national anthem: “China has arrived at its most dangerous moment. Everyone must let out one last roar.”

Some parents do not approve of these ceremonies, Mrs Mak says. And most do not believe her when she tells them their children’s futures lie in mainland China. When Britain handed Hong Kong over to China, in 1997, the city’s economy was almost a fifth the size of the mainland’s. Now it is less than 2.5%.

Once covid19 restrictions lift and the border reopens between Hong Kong and neighbouring Shenzhen, Mrs Mak plans to take her parents to see how quickly China has developed. Shenzhen’s gdp overtook that of Hong Kong for the first time in 2018. “Around 20% of parents know this is true, 40% are in utter denial and the remaining 40% haven’t made up their minds. For the parents who disagree, I just ignore them. There is no point me wasting my time and energy trying to convince them. I’m focused on changing the minds of the parents in the middle. They need to