A small Hong Kong newspaper illustrates how Beijing uses the tools of a free society to suppress freedom itself.
© Adam Maida / The Atlantic E arly one morning a couple of years ago, at the height of Hong Kong’s prodemocracy protest movement, Ta Kung Pao, a Chinese-government-owned newspaper based in Hong Kong, published what it claimed was a major scoop. An American diplomat had met with a group of high-profile activists, including Joshua Wong. A photo accompanied the piece, a low-angle shot from across the lobby of the hotel where the meeting had ostensibly taken place. For Beijing, which at the time was promoting the baseless theory that foreign forces were behind Hong Kong’s protests, the gotcha moment was a juicy story. Western media largely ignored the meeting: A diplomat talking with activists is not typically news. Once trumpeted by Ta Kung Pao, however, the story was picked up by other pro-Beijing outlets and twisted as it reverberated across Chinese state media. The meeting eventually made its way to English-language outlets; the far-right website ZeroHedge published a story that was subsequently posted on the website of the Ron Paul Institute for Peace and Prosperity, an organization founded by the former Texas congressman. Basic facts, however, were incorrect from the start. According to a State Department official, who requested anonymity for fear of being targeted by the newspaper, Julie Eadeh, a political counselor at the U.S. Consulate in Hong Kong, was assisting a delegation of congressional staffers who were meeting with Wong and his colleagues. She had simply arrived a few minutes ahead of the delegates and was waiting with the activists. The facts and details, though, mattered little. The original Ta Kung Pao story had included Eadeh’s professional background and her education credentials but more personal details as well, including the names of her two young children and information about her husband, who is also an American diplomat. Other outlets published Eadeh’s parents’ names and their hometown in the U.S. As the stories mushroomed on Chinese social media and elsewhere, Eadeh morphed from a regular consulate employee to someone highly trained in the dark arts of subversion. Her past postings in the Middle East, articles claimed, showed a sinister track record of assisting the overthrow of foreign governments. ( Ta Kung Pao did not respond to requests for comment.) Eadeh began to notice suspicious activity offline too. A white minivan started to trail her and her family whenever they left their Hong Kong apartment, including when she dropped off her children at school. Sometimes, the people tailing them would hoist cameras with large lenses, conspicuously snapping photographs of her and her family as they went about their day. (It is unclear who the men in the van were.) Later, Eadeh’s likeness was featured in a Chinese video game promoted by state media in which players had to “hunt down traitors who seek to separate Hong Kong from China.” A state-backed documentary on the 2019 protests shown on multiple Hong Kong television channels devoted substantial time to her. The length and intensity of the focus on a mid-level diplomat “was highly unusual,” Kurt Tong, the former U.S. consul general to Hong Kong, for whom Eadeh once worked, told me. “It’s intimidation. It is intended to intimidate the consulate and intimidate the [political] opposition.” Sitting at the center of this storm of vitriol was Ta Kung Pao, a newspaper little known outside of Hong Kong, but one with a long history and which is rapidly growing in influence. Its reports and the fallout that typically follows unfold in a familiar, almost routine fashion. A shaky-grasp-of-facts story or editorial is picked up by an array of other outlets, creating an echo chamber in which those targeted are put under enormous pressure and, in many cases walk back criticism, resign from their job, or flee Hong Kong entirely. In other instances, the newspaper will run an exclusive interview with a high-ranking official that will lay out a de facto policy position or telegraph a possible future move, one that generally attacks prodemocracy organizations or figures. Ta Kung Pao ’s influence illustrates the instruments Beijing uses to pursue its opponents, working in close concert with lawmakers, the police, and other Hong Kong authorities to crush dissent. It also showcases a strategy that China may employ more and more in Hong Kong and elsewhere: using the tools of a free society (in this case a once lively and aggressive press) to suppress freedom itself. Herbert Chow, an outspoken prodemocracy advocate and shop owner, discovered this spring the damage Ta Kung Pao could inflict. Two days after he opened a new store packed with protest memorabilia, he was the focus of a critical report. The day after the story ran, his shop was swarmed by dozens of police. Three of his five employees quit. “This is how they do things,” he told me. “They just scare you.” [ Read: A newsroom at the edge of autocracy] © Provided by The Atlantic (Adam Maida / The Atlantic) T a Kung Pao, which is controlled by China’s representative office in Hong Kong, in some respects mirrors the city’s broader evolution. In colonial times, the publication championed Chinese identity while taking aim at Hong Kong’s British rulers, playing a crucial role in fomenting the leftist riots that broke out in the city in 1967 as the Cultural Revolution swept the mainland. “The salaries were low but the morale was very high” was the way one former staffer described the atmosphere in the late 1980s when he was first hired. Journalists, he told me, felt they were “not only patriots” but “fighting against the colonial power.” When Hong Kong returned to Chinese rule in 1997, the paper remained influential, telegraphing Beijing’s thinking while delivering largely reliable, if heavily slanted, reporting. Its former top editor, the recipient of a prestigious fellowship at Harvard, was named Hong Kong’s secretary for home affairs in 2007. But in recent years, Ta Kung Pao has adopted paparazzi-style tactics. Its employees have been accused of ambushing, harassing, and incessantly stalking prodemocracy activists (and others who land on Beijing’s ever-expanding list of enemies). Its jingoistic rhetoric largely reflects the blustery screeds of China’s “wolf warrior” diplomats. The newspaper is the most aggressive in a web of publications that make up what Bloomberg described as a “publishing empire” in Hong Kong that is overseen by Beijing. Ta Kung Pao ’s parent company does not make clear its ownership structure but coyly mentions on its own website that it is “supported by the motherland.” China’s Hong Kong Liaison Office did not respond to a request for comment. Video: NATO leaders warn that China is poising a growing military threat to the alliance (NBC News) NATO leaders warn that China is poising a growing military threat to the alliance NBC News See more videos SHARE TWEET SHARE EMAIL What to watch next Fmr. 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