Two years ago Sunday, the Chinese government outlawed Falun Gong, saying that the spiritual movement posed a dire threat to social stability. While Beijing has hounded the sect with escalating fury - imprisoning and allegedly torturing scores of its adherents - Hong Kong has quietly backed off its campaign.
For months, top officials here tried to match the vitriol of their mainland bosses toward Falun Gong. Hong Kong's Beijing-appointed chief executive, Tung Chee-hwa, condemned it, calling it an evil cult, while the security chief, Regina Ip, likened its members to spears pointed at the Chinese government. But after dropping hints that it might follow China in banning Falun Gong, the former British colony now says that it has no plans to pass a law against the sect.
The protected status of Falun Gong in Hong Kong says a great deal about the limits of Beijing's power in this capitalist outpost. Four years after it reverted to Chinese sovereignty, Hong Kong has become a noticeably more Chinese city, in look, feel and especially in governance. Under Mr. Tung, a paternalistic former shipping tycoon, decisions are made within a small circle of trusted aides, most of whom were chosen for their fealty to China as well as to their boss.
But after 155 years under Britain, Hong Kong retains a few vestiges of its colonial past that have proved hard for China to break. Chief among them is the rule of law as interpreted by courts based on British common law principles - a condition for China's takeover of the city. So far, that has put Falun Gong in Hong Kong beyond the reach of either China's leaders or Hong Kong officials, who compete with each other to do Beijing's bidding.
As if to underscore the difference between Hong Kong and China, about 160 Falun Gong members gathered outside Mr. Tung's office Friday to mark the anniversary of the crackdown. Sitting in the lotus position, with their eyes closed and hands raised in prayer, the group aroused little notice - let alone anger or alarm - from the police, or office workers who strolled past.
If China's leaders had their way, such protests would be as unthinkable here in Hong Kong as they are in Beijing's Tiananmen Square.
Beijing's loyalists in Hong Kong certainly tried to bring in a ban on Falun Gong.
"Hong Kong was desperate to ban them, they were hunting for ways to do it," said Michael DeGolyer, the director of the Hong Kong Transition Project, which studies public attitudes before and since the 1997 handover. "It is just extremely complex to do, given the legal system."
If the Chinese government ordered Hong Kong to outlaw Falun Gong, it would shatter "one country, two systems," the formula under which Britain returned Hong Kong to China with a guarantee that Beijing would protect its laws and liberties for 50 years. The price would be worldwide opprobrium, and ruination for Hong Kong's reputation as an attractive place to do business.
Recognizing this, China's leaders have kept their hands off. Instead, they have relied on Mr. Tung and his deputies to do the job, and those officials searched hard for a pretext to outlaw Falun Gong. First, they considered revoking its license on the grounds that it was a threat to public safety. That collapsed in the face of Falun Gong's manifest harmlessness in Hong Kong.
The sect has barely 500 members, in Hong Kong, mostly middle-aged. At dawn, they gather in parks to practice their meditation and breathing exercises. They also protest against China's president and Mr. Tung. But the most damning charge the government can drum up is that they hand out pamphlets too aggressively.
Next, Hong Kong considered passing an anti-cult law, as France recently did. But the government concluded that the tactic was untested in Europe, and might not pass muster in the territory's British-style courts. So Hong Kong has reverted to placing Falun Gong under close scrutiny, hoping that the pressure will keep its members from destructive behavior.
"If you worship the sun, the moon, or the stars, it is your business," said the security chief, Mrs. Ip. "But if you want your followers to worship it by taking poisonous drinks, or practicing polygamy, or encouraging young girls to go into prostitution, then the authorities need to be concerned."
Critics of the government said that Falun Gong avoided persecution this time only because foreign countries, including the United States, warned that banning the sect would damage Hong Kong's reputation. But by branding it an evil cult, they say, Hong Kong is trying to suppress it by other means.
Mrs. Ip makes no apologies for the harsh words. "If you follow the ancient tradition of Chinese rulers, we have a duty to educate, to set standards, even to prescribe morals," she said. "Tung, and myself in my humble way, were trying to follow that tradition."
So the tug-of-war between Confucius and common law in Hong Kong continues, and Falun Gong probably should not rest easy. HONG KONG Two years ago Sunday, the Chinese government outlawed Falun Gong, saying that the spiritual movement posed a dire threat to social stability. While Beijing has hounded the sect with escalating fury - imprisoning and allegedly torturing scores of its adherents - Hong Kong has quietly backed off its campaign.
For months, top officials here tried to match the vitriol of their mainland bosses toward Falun Gong. Hong Kong's Beijing-appointed chief executive, Tung Chee-hwa, condemned it, calling it an evil cult, while the security chief, Regina Ip, likened its members to spears pointed at the Chinese government. But after dropping hints that it might follow China in banning Falun Gong, the former British colony now says that it has no plans to pass a law against the sect.
The protected status of Falun Gong in Hong Kong says a great deal about the limits of Beijing's power in this capitalist outpost. Four years after it reverted to Chinese sovereignty, Hong Kong has become a noticeably more Chinese city, in look, feel and especially in governance. Under Mr. Tung, a paternalistic former shipping tycoon, decisions are made within a small circle of trusted aides, most of whom were chosen for their fealty to China as well as to their boss.
But after 155 years under Britain, Hong Kong retains a few vestiges of its colonial past that have proved hard for China to break. Chief among them is the rule of law as interpreted by courts based on British common law principles - a condition for China's takeover of the city. So far, that has put Falun Gong in Hong Kong beyond the reach of either China's leaders or Hong Kong officials, who compete with each other to do Beijing's bidding.
As if to underscore the difference between Hong Kong and China, about 160 Falun Gong members gathered outside Mr. Tung's office Friday to mark the anniversary of the crackdown. Sitting in the lotus position, with their eyes closed and hands raised in prayer, the group aroused little notice - let alone anger or alarm - from the police, or office workers who strolled past.
If China's leaders had their way, such protests would be as unthinkable here in Hong Kong as they are in Beijing's Tiananmen Square.
Beijing's loyalists in Hong Kong certainly tried to bring in a ban on Falun Gong.
"Hong Kong was desperate to ban them, they were hunting for ways to do it," said Michael DeGolyer, the director of the Hong Kong Transition Project, which studies public attitudes before and since the 1997 handover. "It is just extremely complex to do, given the legal system."
If the Chinese government ordered Hong Kong to outlaw Falun Gong, it would shatter "one country, two systems," the formula under which Britain returned Hong Kong to China with a guarantee that Beijing would protect its laws and liberties for 50 years. The price would be worldwide opprobrium, and ruination for Hong Kong's reputation as an attractive place to do business.
Recognizing this, China's leaders have kept their hands off. Instead, they have relied on Mr. Tung and his deputies to do the job, and those officials searched hard for a pretext to outlaw Falun Gong. First, they considered revoking its license on the grounds that it was a threat to public safety. That collapsed in the face of Falun Gong's manifest harmlessness in Hong Kong.
The sect has barely 500 members, in Hong Kong, mostly middle-aged. At dawn, they gather in parks to practice their meditation and breathing exercises. They also protest against China's president and Mr. Tung. But the most damning charge the government can drum up is that they hand out pamphlets too aggressively.
Next, Hong Kong considered passing an anti-cult law, as France recently did. But the government concluded that the tactic was untested in Europe, and might not pass muster in the territory's British-style courts. So Hong Kong has reverted to placing Falun Gong under close scrutiny, hoping that the pressure will keep its members from destructive behavior.
"If you worship the sun, the moon, or the stars, it is your business," said the security chief, Mrs. Ip. "But if you want your followers to worship it by taking poisonous drinks, or practicing polygamy, or encouraging young girls to go into prostitution, then the authorities need to be concerned."
Critics of the government said that Falun Gong avoided persecution this time only because foreign countries, including the United States, warned that banning the sect would damage Hong Kong's reputation. But by branding it an evil cult, they say, Hong Kong is trying to suppress it by other means.
Mrs. Ip makes no apologies for the harsh words. "If you follow the ancient tradition of Chinese rulers, we have a duty to educate, to set standards, even to prescribe morals," she said. "Tung, and myself in my humble way, were trying to follow that tradition."
So the tug-of-war between Confucius and common law in Hong Kong continues, and Falun Gong probably should not rest easy. HONG KONG Two years ago Sunday, the Chinese government outlawed Falun Gong, saying that the spiritual movement posed a dire threat to social stability. While Beijing has hounded the sect with escalating fury - imprisoning and allegedly torturing scores of its adherents - Hong Kong has quietly backed off its campaign.
For months, top officials here tried to match the vitriol of their mainland bosses toward Falun Gong. Hong Kong's Beijing-appointed chief executive, Tung Chee-hwa, condemned it, calling it an evil cult, while the security chief, Regina Ip, likened its members to spears pointed at the Chinese government. But after dropping hints that it might follow China in banning Falun Gong, the former British colony now says that it has no plans to pass a law against the sect.
The protected status of Falun Gong in Hong Kong says a great deal about the limits of Beijing's power in this capitalist outpost. Four years after it reverted to Chinese sovereignty, Hong Kong has become a noticeably more Chinese city, in look, feel and especially in governance. Under Mr. Tung, a paternalistic former shipping tycoon, decisions are made within a small circle of trusted aides, most of whom were chosen for their fealty to China as well as to their boss.
But after 155 years under Britain, Hong Kong retains a few vestiges of its colonial past that have proved hard for China to break. Chief among them is the rule of law as interpreted by courts based on British common law principles - a condition for China's takeover of the city. So far, that has put Falun Gong in Hong Kong beyond the reach of either China's leaders or Hong Kong officials, who compete with each other to do Beijing's bidding.
As if to underscore the difference between Hong Kong and China, about 160 Falun Gong members gathered outside Mr. Tung's office Friday to mark the anniversary of the crackdown. Sitting in the lotus position, with their eyes closed and hands raised in prayer, the group aroused little notice - let alone anger or alarm - from the police, or office workers who strolled past.
If China's leaders had their way, such protests would be as unthinkable here in Hong Kong as they are in Beijing's Tiananmen Square.
Beijing's loyalists in Hong Kong certainly tried to bring in a ban on Falun Gong.
"Hong Kong was desperate to ban them, they were hunting for ways to do it," said Michael DeGolyer, the director of the Hong Kong Transition Project, which studies public attitudes before and since the 1997 handover. "It is just extremely complex to do, given the legal system."
If the Chinese government ordered Hong Kong to outlaw Falun Gong, it would shatter "one country, two systems," the formula under which Britain returned Hong Kong to China with a guarantee that Beijing would protect its laws and liberties for 50 years. The price would be worldwide opprobrium, and ruination for Hong Kong's reputation as an attractive place to do business.
Recognizing this, China's leaders have kept their hands off. Instead, they have relied on Mr. Tung and his deputies to do the job, and those officials searched hard for a pretext to outlaw Falun Gong. First, they considered revoking its license on the grounds that it was a threat to public safety. That collapsed in the face of Falun Gong's manifest harmlessness in Hong Kong.
The sect has barely 500 members, in Hong Kong, mostly middle-aged. At dawn, they gather in parks to practice their meditation and breathing exercises. They also protest against China's president and Mr. Tung. But the most damning charge the government can drum up is that they hand out pamphlets too aggressively.
Next, Hong Kong considered passing an anti-cult law, as France recently did. But the government concluded that the tactic was untested in Europe, and might not pass muster in the territory's British-style courts. So Hong Kong has reverted to placing Falun Gong under close scrutiny, hoping that the pressure will keep its members from destructive behavior.
"If you worship the sun, the moon, or the stars, it is your business," said the security chief, Mrs. Ip. "But if you want your followers to worship it by taking poisonous drinks, or practicing polygamy, or encouraging young girls to go into prostitution, then the authorities need to be concerned."
Critics of the government said that Falun Gong avoided persecution this time only because foreign countries, including the United States, warned that banning the sect would damage Hong Kong's reputation. But by branding it an evil cult, they say, Hong Kong is trying to suppress it by other means.
Mrs. Ip makes no apologies for the harsh words. "If you follow the ancient tradition of Chinese rulers, we have a duty to educate, to set standards, even to prescribe morals," she said. "Tung, and myself in my humble way, were trying to follow that tradition."
So the tug-of-war between Confucius and common law in Hong Kong continues, and Falun Gong probably should not rest easy.