How History Gets Rewritten
Over Hong Kong’s year of mass protests, certain moments rose above the din, some humorous and touching, others violent and disturbing. Few remain as traumatic as the attacks last year in the Yuen Long subway station. There, on the night of July 21, dozens of men in white shirts carrying rods and sticks, many of their faces obscured by masks, beat groups of commuters who scrambled for safety, cowering in train cars and piling into public restrooms in search of safety.
The incident—referred to now in shorthand as “7.21”—remains an emotional milestone, one imbued with sadness and anger, not just because of the shocking scenes of violence, but the sluggish response by police. The alleged involvement by triads harkened back to a time when the city was less polished, where gangsters were emboldened and the police force was riddled with corruption. The belief that public places far from protest routes could serve as safe spaces was exposed as a naive illusion.
Many Hong Kongers were outraged recently when the police began making arrests over the Yuen Long violence, picking up and charging not the attackers, but those who had been
