Patriotism in the Streets

Episode Narrative

In the spring of 2012, an undercurrent of nationalism surged through the vast expanse of China. Strikingly, it all began with a territorial dispute over a collection of islands known by some as the Diaoyu and by others as the Senkaku Islands. These small, uninhabited rocks in the East China Sea had become a flashpoint for larger geopolitical tensions between China and Japan. As Japan announced its nationalization of these contested islands, a wave of mass protests erupted across numerous Chinese cities.

People poured into the streets, their voices united in a chorus of patriotism. Demonstrators targeted Japanese businesses and diplomatic missions, venting their anger on anything Japanese. In the fervor of the moment, protesters smashed cars bearing Japanese brands and vandalized shops, a visceral expression of nationalist outrage. What initially seemed like spontaneous eruptions of anger was, upon closer inspection, partially facilitated by the state. The Chinese government allowed this wave of protests to bloom, and at times even appeared to tacitly encourage such displays of nationalism. Yet, when the effects began to spiral — property damage escalating, international outcry intensifying — the government quickly stepped in to restore order. These initial demonstrations reflected not only patriotic fervor but also a complex relationship between the populace and the state, as demonstrations morphed into something the authorities tried to control rather than completely suppress.

Such displays of public emotion were not unique to a single moment. Across these years, China saw various forms of protests; some motivated by nationalist sentiment, others driven by specific grievances. Between 2014 and 2016, a significant study tracked over 3,100 protests across three major Chinese cities. This research revealed that protests centered on tangible values — focused on environmental concerns, labor rights, and anti-corruption — while not common, were indicative of a more intricate state-society dynamic than what was often portrayed in external narratives. The landscape of dissent was evolving, reflecting deeper anxieties and aspirations within Chinese society.

Two years later, in 2014, Hong Kong found itself in the throes of unrest as well. The “Umbrella Movement” aimed at demanding genuine universal suffrage took hold. Tens of thousands occupied the city’s bustling financial district for 79 days, brandishing umbrellas as shields against tear gas and pepper spray. This peaceful protest, distinctive for its innovative use of everyday items as instruments of resistance, ignited a spark of assertiveness amid heavy-handed governance. The movement encapsulated the aspirations of many in a city attempting to navigate the complex legacy of “One Country, Two Systems.” While the Umbrella Movement sought to expand democratic rights, it also set the stage for subsequent waves of protest.

In 2019, Hong Kong became the epicenter of prolonged civil unrest again, this time ignited by the Anti-Extradition Law Amendment Bill — known as Anti-ELAB. The protests erupted into the largest and most sustained acts of civil disobedience in the territory’s history. Millions participated, marching through streets, establishing occupy sites, and engaging in vocal confrontations with police. This movement was characterized by a decentralized and horizontally organized structure, utilizing tactics that its participants dubbed “be water.” This approach allowed individuals to adapt fluidly to changing circumstances, maintaining the element of surprise against a police force that had increasingly relied on tear gas and rubber bullets.

The use of technology became fundamental during these protests. Protesters employed encrypted messaging apps and VPNs to evade censorship and ensure their communications remained secure. This era marked a significant turn in civil resistance within the Chinese-speaking world, where the digital landscape played a pivotal role in shaping public action and mobilization. While in previous protests the flow of information was tightly controlled by the state, new channels facilitated by the internet allowed dissent to disseminate rapidly, traversing borders and boundaries.

However, alongside escalated activism came heightened risk. Between 2019 and 2020, incidents of violence began to surface within the protests. Some demonstrators resorted to the use of Molotov cocktails, barricading streets, and engaging in acts of arson. This spiral of escalation was met with force from the authorities, who responded with tear gas, live rounds, and mass arrests. The cycle of confrontation fed into a growing sense of despair among residents. Surveys indicated that exposure to protest-related violence among over 7,000 Hong Kong residents correlated with increased rates of probable depression, underscoring the psychological toll of such sustained unrest.

As tumultuous as these years were, they were not solely characterized by the political struggles of the moment. Environmental protests began to emerge as a recurring feature of urban life in China, becoming significant expressions of public sentiment. The Dalian paraxylene plant demonstrations in 2011 marked one of the earliest instances of grassroots mobilization against pollution fears. These protests were often fueled by the collective concern for health and safety and were organized via social media platforms that thrived beyond governmental oversight. Such movements occasionally compelled local authorities to cancel or relocate controversial projects, showcasing the potential for citizens to challenge state decisions.

Yet, the backdrop of the state’s response remained complex. During the 2010s, China's government intensified its grip on the internet, implementing a framework of cyber sovereignty designed to root out dissent before it could manifest publicly. This sharpened control coincided with nationalistic fervor, particularly evident during years of heightened tensions on the international stage. State media served a dual purpose, both wrapping national pride in a patriotic narrative while quietly warning citizens against “illegal” gatherings — a paradox that illustrated the Party’s fixation on managing public emotion.

In Hong Kong, public spaces became canvases for the expressions of dissent. Protesters turned airports, shopping malls, and university campuses into sites of resistance. They created impromptu “Lennon Walls,” a powerful visual tapestry of protest art and slogans that articulated their aspirations for democracy and human rights. The vibrant collage of messages visually contested state narratives while spreading awareness beyond Hong Kong’s borders.

As protests spread throughout the Chinese-speaking world, contrasting media portrayals emerged, painting different pictures of the unfolding events. Western outlets often emphasized police violence and the quest for democratic freedoms. In contrast, local Hong Kong-based media absorbed the prevailing narrative less critically, often focusing on calls for restoring order, reflecting the deep divides within public perception.

In a manner both reflective and urgent, the Chinese government tightened its grip around sensitive dates, using preemptive repression along with threats to deter any possible uprisings that could draw parallels to past instances of unrest, particularly anniversaries related to ethnic struggled in Tibet or Xinjiang. In these moments of hesitation and anxiety, even slight signs of dissent would be met with force, reflecting a broader strategy focused on maintaining stability at any cost.

With the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic in early 2020, a fragile calm descended over protests in both Hong Kong and mainland China. Lockdowns and health regulations stifled the collective voice, yet isolation did not diminish the desire for expression. Other forms of dissent emerged as grievances over quarantine measures surfaced, leading to discussions on overseas platforms, revealing both the persistent dissenting spirit and the limits of official control.

Amidst these movements — both historical and contemporary — one must reflect on the threads that bind them. From animated nationalist protests in 2012 to the evolving landscape of civil unrest in Hong Kong, the desire for change remains palpable throughout Chinese society. What is the future of dissent in a landscape defined by control and surveillance? Are the echoes of past challenges heralding a new chapter in the ongoing struggle for rights, representation, and recognition?

As we embark on this journey through history, the streets have become a mirror — a space where allegiance and rebellion converge. In the depths of adversity, citizens carve out their narratives, embodying a resilience that underscores the enduring quest for dignity. As the final chapters unfold, one is left to ponder: what legacy will be forged as voices rise in the tumult of the streets?