A Letter from the Son of A Dissident to the Son of A Dissident

 

Dear Sabastian:

 

I am writing you this letter to share my experience of being the son of a political dissident. The purpose of this letter is to make repressed voices heard as loud as possible. They should resonate like thundering from the sky of high summer, the deafening heartbeats of the sacrificed, or echoes of foot shackles during a death march. 

 

Before your father’s arrest and the subsequent global rescue efforts, I had never followed news of him—even though your father’s name was ubiquitous in the media. He was called a ‘“tycoon” due to his media group, fashion business, and real estate investments. I paid little attention to his empire, dismissing his publications as mere popular culture or tabloids. However, when the large-scale arrests began in Hong Kong, your father made a surprising decision: he refused to leave Hong Kong. At 73 years old upon his arrest, he now faces charges of “slanderous, derogatory remarks and attacks against Chinese leaders” under the National Security Law.  It could result in his lifelong imprisonment.

 

Today, I am close to your father’s age. When my father was arrested by the ruling power in Taiwan, he was about your age now. I was five when my father left. Although the formal story in my family was that he went to graduate school in the US, I always knew that wasn’t the case. I don’t remember if I knew it was a lie from the beginning or if I gradually realized my father wasn’t in the US. First, graduate school doesn’t take decades for any degree; second, the letters we sent to and received from him were not to or from the US. I did not know what my younger sister believed; I never asked her. I only knew that if I divulged my suspicion that my father wasn’t in the US as Mom told us, both of them would be deeply hurt.

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I had a puppy I called Freedom. Since my father’s departure, I couldn’t sleep well, and a friend of my parents suggested that my mother adopt a pet for me and my younger sister. Freedom slept with me, although Mom forbade him from being in any bed. I always allowed Freedom to share my bed after Mom retired to her bedroom. With Freedom, my sleep was much improved. Do you have pets, Sebastian?

Looking back, we all underestimated the cruelty of state violence. Dictatorship spares no free air for its people. Your father bravely resists the communist power, and ironically, my father was persecuted by an anti-communist regime during the Cold War.

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My father was an English teacher. The books he published for English learning, including grammar, vocabulary, and practice tests, became the only income for my family. In this aspect, we were lucky compared to many other political prisoners whose families collapsed right after their imprisonment. Many of them encountered scams during their rescue attempts, and all the fortunes of their families were taken advantage of in their most vulnerable times. Although the assets your father possessed in Hong Kong have been frozen under the National Security Law, I suppose you and your family are still doing all right in terms of financial support, given your father’s very successful entrepreneurship before his imprisonment and the assets your family owns outside of Hong Kong. On the other hand, it gives the regime a perfect excuse for the charge of “Collusion with Foreign Power.”

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In the tenth year of my father’s imprisonment, my mother finally told us what had happened to him and where he really was. We were not surprised that he wasn’t in the US, but we were very confused as to why he was deemed a public enemy. The terms “sedition,” “subversion,” and “treason” were beyond our comprehension.

Unlike you, who are no longer able to return to Hong Kong to visit your father, I visited mine several times, each time after very long and difficult journeys by train, bus, and boat. My memories of my father during these visits are so vague. After the nauseating rides, I only wished for the meeting with my father, behind the barred window and through a telephone in such an unkind atmosphere, to be over soon. It did end soon. Although it took us a whole day to arrive at the prison, each visit was allowed only 15 minutes, and then we had to spend another whole day traveling back home. At 15, I must have been considered old enough to understand the political calamity enshrouding my family, but I wasn’t. Nightmares of us getting lost on the deserted island or drowning in the sea have haunted me to this day.

 

What we fear most, naturally, are the inhuman conditions in which our fathers have been imprisoned. Following the news regarding your father since his arrest, I know he was placed in solitary confinement at Stanley Prison. There, he is allowed to spend only about 50 minutes outdoors each day. Despite being outdoors, the space allotted to him is no larger than a basketball court for walking. From the very rare photos taken by the Associated Press, he was seen holding a book and walking with his head held high. I was particularly struck by the black sandals he wore; they reminded me of my father’s own worn footwear that he had used for years. A former billionaire and now a political dissident, your father’s courage in facing such a sudden shift from a luxurious life to despair is truly admirable.

 

Freedom died when he was 14 years old. He was killed by bone cancer. All these years we shared a bed, he was growing big, and so was I. The single bed became really crowded. But after his death, I felt odd without Freedom kicking me in my dreams from time to time. I wrote to my father about Freedom’s death, although my father never met him. He kindly replied to comfort me, “Let’s never forget Freedom. He will never be forgotten as long as we always keep him in our minds.”

 

Dear Sabastian, I wonder if you wished your father never had made the decision to stay in Hong Kong, instead of leaving for the UK, where he is a citizen. My father had no choice. Years after his release, when Martial Law was lifted and freedom of expression was finally restored, my father began to write his memoir. It revealed that he attempted to take his own life more than once. My mother thought of committing suicide, too. Even though our fathers’ mishaps are 70 years apart, hopelessness is the major killer for political prisoners and their families. Outsiders, even if they have great empathy, are unlikely to figure out what torturous experience we face. That is the reason why I hope my letter is able to bring you some light. Your father’s courage and your effort of rescue through all possible means are not gone without being noticed. I am also convinced that he represents hope for many silenced people living in fear.

 

I am proud of my father, and I know you are proud of your father, too. And I have no doubt that your father is proud of you. My best wishes to you and your family.

 

Dr. C. M. Ka