It didn’t look much like a revolution. It was 9 p.m. in the heart of Hong Kong’s financial district. People, not cars, occupied the roads. A truck delivering water bottles and juice, gas masks and cooling pads, rolled through the crowd. The people parted, creating a path for the truck while the drivers handed out supplies to the sound of sustained cheers from the onlookers. It didn’t feel like a revolution either.

Yet this was the same group of protesters, the same “Umbrella Revolution” that faced unprecedented police force just the day before, on Sept. 28, when authorities unleashed pepper spray and dozens of canisters of tear gas on the crowd gathered in Central. With more than 50 people injured in scuffles with the police and 89 arrested, these protests blemished Hong Kong’s usually spotless track record of peaceful demonstrations — but not because of the protesters. This time it’s the authorities, who have been criticized by both demonstrators and the media for excessive use of force in a situation that did not need it.

So named for the countless umbrellas held aloft to shield protesters from both sun and tear gas, the “Umbrella Revolution” is the result of Hong Kong’s growing discontent with both the local and central governments. At the core of the issue lies the city’s demands for universal suffrage. The Basic Law that governs Hong Kong states that the Chief Executive should eventually be elected by the people: one person, one vote. Currently, an election committee elects Hong Kong’s Chief Executive. The most recent proposal set forth by the Beijing government allows each person one vote, but only after a pro-Beijing election committee vets up to three candidates for the position. That, Hong Kongers contend, was not the deal.

The action started on Wednesday, Sept. 24. Demonstrations began, sparked by students’ efforts as they conducted peaceful marches and boycotted classes. Momentum increased Friday when the Occupy Central movement, which had planned a civil disobedience campaign for Oct. 1 against the proposed election policy, moved its campaign up to join the student movement. The police reacted with surprising force against protesters, emerging with militaristic guns. Thousands flooded the streets in indignant response. On Sunday, the police cloaked Central in tear gas and pepper spray. But the thousands remained on the streets, united against the violence.

Corey Nelson (Weinberg ’14) arrived in Central on Monday night. He called the atmosphere “peaceful, almost celebratory.” By that time, the police had essentially disappeared from the major protest areas, realizing perhaps that force was not enough to drive the protesters from the streets.

With the disappearance of the police, the crowds have relaxed and the calm atmosphere that blankets most demonstrations in Hong Kong has returned. Protesters sit together on pedestrian bridges, on curbs, in the road, sitting in groups of two or three, chatting as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. But they’re far from finished. Near the government headquarters, people have set up microphones. They chant and they sing, chanting for Leung Chun-Ying, the current Chief Executive, to resign, and signing the Cantonese version of “Do You Hear the People Sing” from “Les Misérables.”

The situation doesn’t cease to amaze: the escalation of the demonstrations, from student-led boycotts to protests over 100,000 strong, the police reaction, the subsequent outpouring of support from the citizens of Hong Kong. Even now, the protesters display discipline and order – even while building a barricade with fences and plastic zip ties, protesters made a point of throwing used ties into trash bags.

For Hong Kongers far away from home, the news reports contain no less heavy a blow. On campus in Evanston, Northwestern students reacted to the news with shock, dismay, hurt and a sudden desire to defend their home. Just hours after reports of Friday’s violence reached Evanston, Vincent Li, a Kellogg student, and Weinberg senior Jasmine Jor encouraged fellow students from Hong Kong to react, to feel for their city, to take action.

“The unity that a majority of Hong Kongers are feeling in this movement, in protecting the idea of what Hong Kong is and what Hong Kong should be, somehow that idea is the same for all Hong Kong people,” Li said. “Regardless of your political views, you are feeling some sort of hurt for the people of Hong Kong, some camaraderie.”

On Tuesday evening, thousands still sat in the roads. Nelson returned to the protests and parked himself on one of the main roads in Central, eating biscuits, talking to people. He marveled at the way these protests brought people together, congregated them in spaces they could never ordinarily occupy. It was the magic of public space, he decided. These demonstrations drew people out and together in a way that no other protest in recent years has. Nelson said he saw more concern and passion from the gathered students than he had ever seen before.

But despite Hong Kong’s awakened solidarity, there’s no telling what will happen next, no telling whether the people’s efforts will result in any changes. Some believe the protests will simply end whenever people grow tired.

The legacy of the protests may lie in more than just the results, though.

“Whatever the outcome, the fact that the people of Hong Kong are willing to express desires for freedom and representation, and willing to sacrifice some of that to express their needs as a people, is important and necessary,” Nelson said.

For him, it’s the less palpable changes that matter.

“Even if they don’t get what they want, it’s killed the image of Hong Kong as an apathetic people.”

Abigail Watt

Medill Senior

Former member of Hong Kong Students’ Association junior exec board